les of her own
and a saddle horse, and her father owns the best apartment house in
town, and Beatrice is going to have the best apartment in it when she
marries Steve. And you can just bet she knew she was going to marry
him a long time ago--because she knew he'd rob the Bank of England to
get a fortune. She's flirted with everyone from an English nobleman to
the Prince of Siam, and now she's marrying the handsomest, brightest,
most devoted cave man in the world." Trudy glanced at Mary. "Yet she
doesn't really care for him, she just wants to be married before she
is considered passee." Trudy was very proud of her occasional French.
"She'll be twenty-six her next birthday!"

"Dear me, girls take their time these days; I was eighteen the day Mr.
Faithful led me to the altar."

"When are you going to get married?" Luke asked Trudy with malice
aforethought.

"Oh, I'll give Mary a chance. She don't want to dance in the pig
trough."

Mary laid down the paper. "I wish you people would finish eating.
Luke, are you going fishing with me out at the old mill? Then you
better get the walks swept. We'll be home in time for dinner, mother.
I'll leave the things as nearly ready as I can. How about you,
Trudy?"

"Gay wants me to go to the Boulevard Cafe--they dance on Sunday just
the same as weekdays--and then we'll do a movie afterward. I suppose
Steve and his Beatrice are now revelling in the Constantine
conservatory, with Steve walking on all fours to prove his devotion.
Why is it some girls have everything? Look at me--no one cares if I
live or die. First I had a stepmother, and then I tried living with a
great-aunt, and then I went to work. Here I am still working, and a
lot of thanks I get for it. I'd like to see the Gorgeous Girl have to
work--well, I would!"

Mary brushed by with some dishes. Whereupon Trudy settled herself in
an easy-chair and ran through the supplement sections, discussing the
latest New York scandal with Mrs. Faithful. The next thing on Trudy's
Sunday program was washing out "just a few little things, Mary dear;
and have you a bit of soap I could borrow and may I use the electric
iron for half a jiffy?"

Presently there were hung on the line some dabs of chiffon and lace,
and Trudy, taking advantage of her softened cuticle, sat down and did
her nails, Mrs. Faithful admiring the high polish she achieved and
reading Advice to the Anxious aloud for general edification.

After ironing the few little