again the warm girlish
colour flooded her cheeks with June. No questioning it, he had rather
singled her out for his companionship of late. Last Sunday, and the
Sunday before, he had come to call--once, most considerately, the girls
thought, to show Pa the plans for the new High School, once to take
Martie and Sally and the children driving. Martie had sat next him on
the front seat, during the drive, her black veil blowing free about her
wide-brimmed hat, her blue eyes dancing with pleasure, and her cheeks
rosy in the cool foggy air.

Well, she was widowed. She was free to marry again. It seemed strange
to her that in eighteen months she had never once weighed the
possibility. She had pondered every other avenue open to women; she had
considered this work and that, but marriage had not once crossed her
mind.

She said to herself that she would not allow herself to think of it
now, probably Clifford had never thought of it, and if he had, he was
notoriously slow about making up his mind. Her only course was to be
friendly and dignified, and to meet the issue when it came.

But if--but if it were her fortune to win the affections of this man,
to take her place, here among her old friends, as their leader and
head, to entertain in the old house with the cupola, under the plumy
maple and locust trees--? If Teddy might grow to a happy boyhood, here
with Sally's children, and friendly, gentle little Ruth Frost might
find a real mother in her father's young wife--?

Martie's blood danced at the thought. She hardly saw Cliff's
substantial figure and kindly face for the glamour of definite
advantages that surrounded him. She would be rich, rich enough to do
anything and everything for Sally's children, for instance. And what
pleasure and pride such a marriage would bring to Lydia, and Pa, and
Sally! And how stupefied Len would be, to have the ugly duckling
suddenly show such brilliant plumage!

She thought of Rodney and Rose. Rodney was getting stout now, he was
full of platitudes, heavy and a little tiresome. Rose was still
birdlike, still sure that what she had and did and said and desired
were the sum of earthly good. A smile twitched Martie's sober mouth as
she thought of Rose's congratulations.

Rose would give her a linen shower, with delicious damp little
sandwiches, and maple mousse, or a dainty luncheon with silk-clad,
flushed women laughing about the table. And Martie would join the
club--be its president, som