y.

"Not just now," Pearl said, trying to speak carelessly; "but, of
course, you will some time. Such a clever girl as you are will be
sure to get married. You're a dandy housekeeper, Martha, and when it
comes to gettin' married, that's what counts."

"Oh, no, Pearl, there are other things more important than that,"
Martha spoke sadly and with settled conviction. She was standing at
the foot of the bed, looking out between the muslin curtains at the
level stretch of country, bordered by the wooded river bank. She had
been looking at this same scene, varied only by the changing seasons,
for many weary, wearing years, and the big elms on the river bank had
looked back indifferently, although they must have known that Martha
was growing old, that Martha was fading, and that the chances of the
trunk and cupboardful ever being used were growing less. The long
arms of the windmill on the barn caught the sunlight and threw it in
a thousand dancing splinters on the floor behind her.

"Being a good housekeeper hasn't got anything to do with getting
married," she said again, and her voice was tense with feeling. "I
can work and keep house, and sew and bake; but no man would ever
fancy me' why should he? A man wants his wife to be pretty and smart
and bright, and what am I?"

The strain in her voice struck Pearl's heart with pity.

"I am old, and wrinkled, and weatherbeaten. Look at that, Pearl." She
held up her hands, so cruelly lined and calloused: "That's my
picture; they look like me."

"No, no, no!" Pearl cried, throwing her arms around Martha's thin
shoulders, and holding her tight in her strong young arms. "You're
only twenty-five, and that's not old; and your looks are all right if
you would only do your hair out bigger and fluffier, and you'd get to
be a better figure if you'd breathe deep, and throw back your
shoulders, and sleep with your windows open. I read all about it, and
I'll get it for you. It was in a paper Camilla gets--a long piece
called 'How to Be Pretty, though Plain.' I am doin' the things, too,
and we'll do them together, Martha. See here, Martha, here's the way
to breathe, and here's the way to throw back your shoulders"--suiting
the action to the word--"and a cold bath every morning will give you
rosy cheeks."

She kissed Martha impulsively. "Oh, you bet you'll get married,
Martha, and I'll be your bridesmaid--me and Bud will be it--and Lib
Cavers will be maid of honour and carry a shock of lil