ow.

Poor Clifford, with his stiffly moving brain and his platitudes! She
hoped he would marry some more grateful woman some day. What a Paradise
opening for Lydia if he could ever fancy her again! Martie spent a
moment in wonder as to what the story given Monroe would be. She had
mailed a letter to Lydia, and one to Clifford, during that last, quiet,
foggy morning--letters written after the packing had been done on that
last night. She had suggested that Monroe be given a hint that business
had taken Mrs. Bannister suddenly eastward. It would be a nine days'
wonder; in six months Monroe would only vaguely remember it. Gossips
might suspect the truth: they would never know it. Clifford himself, in
another year, would be placidly implying that there never had been
anything in the rumour of an engagement. Rose would dimple and shake
her head; Martie was always just a little ODD. Lydia would confide to
Sally that she was just sick for fear that Dryden man--and Sally,
sternly inspecting Jimmy's little back for signs of measles, would
quote Joe. Joe ALWAYS thought Martie would make good, and Joe wasn't
one bit sorry she had done as she had. Dr. Ben would defend her, too,
for on that sudden impulsive call she had let her full heart thank him
for all his fatherly goodness to her beloved Sally, and had told him
what she was doing.

"Mark ye, if you was engaged to me, ye wouldn't jump the traces like
this!" the old man had assured her.

"Dr. Ben, I wouldn't want to!" she had answered gaily. "You're older
than Cliff; I know that. But you're broad, Dr. Ben, and you're simple,
and you aren't narrow! You've grown older the way I want to, just
smiling and listening. And you know more in your little finger
than--than some people know in their whole bodies!" And she put her
arms about his neck, and gave him a daughter's laughing kiss.

"Looky here," said the old man, warming, "a man's got to be dead before
he can stand for a thing like this! You haven't got a waiting-list, I
suppose, Miss Martie?"

"No, sir!" she answered positively. "But if ever I do I'll let you
know!"

She and Teddy ate their first meal at Childs'. Little signs bearing the
single word "strawberries" were pasted on the window; Martie felt a
real thrill of affection for the place as she went in. After a while
"Old Southern Corn Cakes" would take the place of the strawberries, and
then grape-fruit "In Season Now."

"After a while we'll be too rich to come here