he fit of
her garments and the effect of different colors. Her taste in clothes
happened to be good, and the fine simplicity of her suit and hat offset
the plainness of her manner and her evident embarrassment over the
difficult function of making calls.

"I like her," said Mrs. Emerson, the minister's wife, to Mrs. Morris,
the banker's wife. "She is what you call a plain woman, and they're
unmistakably 'new rich', but the newspaper paragrapher will never have
anything on her. She's absolutely without pretense, and she has a world
of common sense. I'm glad she's consented to join our club, for we need
just such a woman in this legislative work we're undertaking."

When David wrote her the date of his home-coming, she made it a festal
occasion. The house had an extra cleaning; the grocer's boy left the
choicest meat, fruits, and vegetables on Nelly's kitchen table, and
Bertha was ordered to make the table look as attractive as possible.
Notwithstanding her longing for the old life, Sarah had always taken a
timid, tremulous sort of pleasure in the fine damask, the cut glass,
silver, and china that David had bought when they moved into the
"two-story brick", and after she had dressed to meet David, she stole
down to the dining-room to feast her eyes on the costly things that had
replaced the plated spoons, steel knives, ten-cent dishes, and cotton
napkins of other days. Closing the door lest Bertha should intrude on
her, she gazed fondly at her possessions. She was just beginning to feel
they were really hers. She touched the lace of the centerpiece and a
daring thought came into her mind. Was there time to do it before David
came? She rushed up-stairs, put on her hat and coat, seized her purse,
and walked swiftly to a near-by greenhouse.

"Roses?" said the florist, "certainly, madam, what kind?"

What kind? Alas! the only roses she knew by name were roses like the
old-fashioned ones that grew in the gardens of the Millville people.
These stately queens clad in white, pink, and crimson satin and cloth of
gold, were strangers to her. She looked hesitatingly from the Bridesmaid
to the Bride, from the Bride to the Jacqueminot, and the florist, seeing
her perplexity, suggested La France as a desirable choice and called her
attention to the perfume. Yes, she wanted a dozen,--she almost turned
pale at the thought of her own extravagance,--and when the florist laid
the big, soft bundle of roses and ferns on her arm, she hurrie