cess, but always she had that chilling doubt of her
power. Miss Martha Wallingford had impressed her as being a young
woman capable of swift and unexpected movements. She was rather
afraid of her but she did not confess her fear to Wilbur. When he
inquired genially what kind of a girl the authoress was, she replied:
"Oh, charming, of course, but the poor child does not know how to do
up her hair." However, when Martha arrived Thursday afternoon and
Margaret met her at the station, she, at a glance, discovered that
the poor child had discovered how to do up her hair. Some persons'
brains work in a great many directions and Martha Wallingford's was
one of them. Somehow or other, she had contrived to dispose of her
tightly frizzed fringe, and her very pretty hair swept upward from a
forehead which was both intellectual and beautiful. She was well
dressed too. She had drawn heavily upon her royalty revenue. She had
worked hard and spent a good deal during the short time since
Margaret's call, and her brain had served her body well. She stepped
across the station platform with an air. She carried no provincial
bag--merely a dainty little affair mounted in gold which matched her
gown--and she had brought a small steamer trunk.

Margaret's heart sank more and more, but she conducted her visitor to
her little carriage and ordered the man to drive home, and when
arrived there, showed Martha her room. She had a faint hope that the
room might intimidate this Western girl, but instead of intimidation
there was exultation. She looked about her very coolly, but
afterward, upon her return to East Mordan, Illinois, she bragged a
good deal about it. The room was really very charming and rather
costly. The furniture was genuine First Empire; the walls, which were
hung with paper covered with garlands of roses, were decorated with
old engravings; there was a quantity of Dresden ware and there was a
little tiled bathroom. Over a couch in the bedroom lay a kimona of
white silk embroidered with pink roses. Afterward Martha made cruel
fun of her Aunt's pink crepe and made her buy a kimona.

"Shall I send up my maid to assist you in unpacking, Miss
Wallingford?" inquired Margaret, inwardly wondering how the dinner
would be managed if the offer were accepted. To her relief, Martha
gave her an offended stare. "No, thank you, Mrs. Edes," said she, "I
never like servants, especially other peoples', mussing up my
things."

When Margaret had go