e chief concern in life was to
have the smartest-looking window curtains in the neighbourhood, Mary
went to work at thirteen with a remnant of an education. Possessions
spelled happiness to Mrs. Faithful; poetical dreams had been Mr.
Faithful's chief concern, and as an unexpected consequence their first
child had been endowed with common sense. With Mary at the wheel there
had been just enough to get along with, so they stayed on in the
old-fashioned house while Mrs. Faithful bewailed Mary's having to work
for a living and not be a lady, as she could have been if her father
had had any judgment.

Mrs. Faithful had become quite happy in her martyrdom as she was still
able to maintain the starched window curtains. After a conventional
period of mourning she began to relive the past, her husband's
mistakes, her own girlhood and offers of marriage--such incidents as
these sufficed to keep her from enjoying the present, while Mary rose
from errand girl to grocery clerk, with night school as a recreation,
from grocery clerk to filing clerk, assistant bookkeeper, bookkeeper,
stenographer, and finally private secretary to Steve O'Valley, one of
the war-fortune kings. And she had given her heart to him in the same
loyal way she had always given her services.

At home Trudy noted that Mary worked round the house because she liked
the change from office routine, deaf to the complaining maternal voice
reciting past glories in which Mary had no part. If the parlour
furniture with its tidies and a Rogers group in the front window
sometimes got on her nerves she forced herself to laugh over it and
say: "It's mother's house, and all she has." She concerned herself far
more with Luke, an active, fair-to-middling American boy somewhat
inclined to be spoiled. Mary had taken Luke into the office after
school hours to keep a weather eye on him and make him contribute a
stipend to the expenses.

"If a man won't work he should not eat," she informed him as she
proportioned his wage.

Recalling Mary's position at home--though Trudy rejoiced in her own
front room and the comforts of the household--she shrugged her
shoulders in disapproval. Certainly she could never endure the same
lot in life. For if one man will not love you why waste time bewailing
the fact? Find another. Mary could have had other suitors. Mr.
Tompkins, the city salesman, and young Elias, of Elias & Son, had both
made brave attempts to plead their cause, only to be treat