why wouldn't it be a capital idea for you to pack up your
goods and chattels here, and take your family right up there--make that
your home? The lodge is comfortable and roomy, and I don't see why Mr.
Slawson couldn't recover there as well, if not better, than where he is.
I'd like to put the place in order--make some improvements, do a little
remodeling. I need a trusty man to oversee the laborers, and keep an eye
and close tab on the workmen I send up from town. If Mr. Slawson would
act as superintendent for me, I'd pay him what such a position is worth,
and you would have your house, fuel, and vegetables free. Don't try to
answer now. You'd be foolish to make a decision in a hurry that you
might regret later. Write to your husband. Talk it over with him. He
might prefer to choose a job for himself. And remember--it's 'way out in
the country. The children would have to walk some distance to school."

"Give 'em exercise, along of their exercises," said Martha.

"The church in the village is certainly three miles off."

"My husband don't go to church as reg'lar as I might wish," Mrs. Slawson
observed. "I tell'm, the reason men don't be going to church so much
these days, is for fear they might hear something they believe."

"You would find country life tame, perhaps, after the city."

"Well, the city life ain't been that _wild_ for me that I'd miss the
dizzy whirl. An' anyhow--we'd be _together_!" Martha said. "We'd be
together, maybe, come our weddin'-day. The fourth o' July. We never been
parted oncet, on that day, all the fifteen years we been married," she
mused, "but--"

"Well?"

"But, come winter, an' Mis' Sherman opens the house again, an' wants
Miss Claire back, who's goin' to look out for _her_?"

"Why--a--as to _that_--" said Mr. Ronald, so vaguely it sounded almost
supercilious to Claire.

In an instant her pride rose in revolt, rebelling against the notion he
might have, that she could possibly put forth any claim upon his
consideration.

"O, please, _please_ don't think of me, Martha," she cried vehemently.
"I have entirely other plans. You mustn't give me, or my affairs, a
thought, in settling your own. You must do what's best for _you_. You
mustn't count for, or _on_, me in the least. I have not told you before,
but I've made up my mind I must resign my position at Mrs. Sherman's,
anyway. I'll write her at once. I'll tell her myself, of course, but I
tell you now to show that you mustn't have