ment stock worth anything, and what?
Number Two--If it is worth anything, can he sell it for that? What do
you think of that idea?"

Naturally, Galusha thought it a wonderful idea. He was very enthusiastic
about it.

"Why, Miss Phipps--Miss Martha, I mean," he declared, "I really think
we--ah--may consider your troubles almost at an end. I shouldn't be
in the least surprised if Cousin Gussie bought that stock of yours
himself."

Martha smiled, faintly. "I should," she said, "be very much surprised.
But perhaps he may know some one who will buy it at some price or
other. And, no matter whether they do or not, I am ever and ever so much
obliged to you, Mr. Bangs, for all your patience and sympathy."

And, in spite of her professed pessimism she could not help feeling a
bit more hopeful, even sharing a bit of her lodger's confidence. And so
when Primmie, in tears, came again that afternoon to beg to be retained
in service, Martha consented to try to maintain the present arrangement
for a few weeks more, at least.

"Although the dear land knows I shouldn't, Primmie," she said. "It's
just postponin' what is almost sure to come, and that isn't right for
either of us."

Primmie's grin extended from ear to ear.

"You bet you it's right for one of us, Miss Martha," she declared.
"And you ain't the one, neither. My Lord of Isrul, if I don't feel some
better'n I did when I come into this room! Whew! My savin' soul! Zach
Bloomer he says to me this mornin'. 'What's the matter, Posy?' he says.
'Seems to me you look sort of wilted lately. You better brace up,' he
says, 'or folks'll be callin' you a faded flower.' 'Well,' says I, 'I
may be faded, but there's one old p'ison ivy around here that's fresh
enough to make up.' Oh, I squashed HIM all righty, but I never took no
comfort out of doin' it. I ain't took no comfort for the last two, three
days. But now--Whew!"

The letter to Cousin Gussie was written that very afternoon. Mr. Bangs
wrote it, with helpful suggestions, many of them, from Miss Phipps. At
Martha's suggestion the envelope was marked "Personal."

"I suppose it is foolish of me," she said, "but somehow I hate to have
my affairs talked all over that office. Even when I was a little girl,
and things went wrong in school, I used to save up my cryin' until I got
home. I'm the same now. This Development Company milk is spilled, and,
whether any of it can be saved or not, there is no use callin' a crowd
to look at th