uncouth. Thought of her uncle put Katie on
the outside, eyes dancing with the fun of the attack.

"Who are her people, Fred?"

"Oh, Western people--ranchers; best sort of people. They raised the best
crop of potatoes in the valley this year."

Katie yearned to commend the family of her daughter-in-law to her Aunt
Elizabeth with the boast that they raised the best crop of potatoes in
the valley!

"They had hard sledding for a long time; but they're making a go of it
now. They've worked--let me tell you. Helen wouldn't have to work
now--but don't you say that to Helen! What do you think, Katie? She even
wants to keep on working after we're married!"

That planted Katie firmly within. "Oh, she can't do that, Fred."

"Well, I wish you'd tell her she can't. That's where we are now. We stick
on that point. I try to assert my manly authority, but manly authority
doesn't faze Helen much. She has some kind of theory about the economic
independence of woman. You know anything about it, Katie?"

"You forget that I'm one of the doll-baby girls," she replied in a light
voice which trailed a little bitterness on behind.

"Not you! Just before I left I said to Helen: 'Well there's at least one
relative of mine who will have sense enough to appreciate you, and that's
my corking cousin Katie Jones!'"

That lured feminine Kate outside again. "Fred," she asked, moved by her
never slumbering impulse to find out about things, "just what is it you
care for in Helen? Is she pretty? Funny? Sympathetic? Clever? What?"

She watched his face as he tried to frame it. And watching, she decided
that whatever kind of girl Helen was, she was a girl to be envied. Yes,
and to be admired.

"Well I fear it doesn't sound sufficiently romantic," he laughed, "but
Helen's such a _sturdy_ little wretch. The first things I ever noticed
about her was her horse sense. She's good on her job, too. She seems to
me like the West. Though that's rather amusing, for she's such a little
bit of a thing. She's afraid she'll get fat. But she won't. She's not
that kind."

"Why of course not," said Katie stoutly, and they laughed and seemed very
near to Helen in thus scorning her fear of getting fat.

He continued his confidences, laughter from the porch coming down to them
all the while. Helen was so real--she was so square--so independent--so
dauntless--and yet she had such dear little ways. He couldn't make her
sound as nice as she was; Katie would have to c