tle while!"

The harassed housekeeper cast an anxious eye on the clock, but loyally
stifled the sigh with which she laid her work aside. Lydia apologized
for interrupting her. "But I do want you to really think of what I am
saying. Everybody's always so busy thinking about _things_! Oh, Etta,
I'm just as unhappy as I can be--and so scared when I think about--about
the future."

Mrs. Mortimer's face softened wonderfully. She stroked Lydia's dark
hair. "Why, poor dear little sister! Yes, yes, darling, I know all about
it. I felt just so myself the month before I was married, and Mother
couldn't help me a bit. Either she had forgotten all about it, or else
she never had the feeling. I just had to struggle along through without
anybody to help me or to say a word. Oh, I'm so glad I can help my
little sister. _Don't_ be afraid, dear! There's nothing so terrible
about it; nothing to be scared of. Why, once you get used to it you find
it doesn't make a bit of difference to you. Everything's just the same
as before."

Lydia lifted a wrinkled brow of perplexity to this soothing view of
matrimony. "I don't know what you're talking about, Etta!" she cried in
a bewilderment that seemed to strike her as tragic.

"Why--why, being married! Wasn't that what you meant?"

"Oh, no! _No!_ Nothing so definite as that! I couldn't be afraid of
Paul--why should I be? I'm just frightened of--everything--what
everybody expects me to do, and to go on doing all my life, and never
have any time but to just hurry faster and faster, so there'll be more
things to hurry about, and never talk about anything but _things_!" She
began to tremble and look white, and stopped with a desperate effort to
control herself, though she burst out at the sight of Mrs. Mortimer's
face of despairing bewilderment, "Oh, don't tell me you don't see at all
what I mean. I can't say it! But you _must_ understand! Can't we somehow
all stop--_now_! And start over again! You get muslin curtains and not
mend your lace ones, and Mother stop fussing about whom to invite to
that party--that's going to cost more than he can afford, Father
says--it makes me _sick_ to be costing him so much. And not fuss about
having clothes just so--and Paul have our house built little and plain,
so it won't be so much work to take care of it and keep it clean. I
would so much rather look after it myself than to have him kill himself
making money so I can hire maids that you _can't_--you say you