y she used to be so busy. You know she's a great
club woman and a suffragette and oh, such a beautiful speaker. It's
from her I get my funny, big, deep voice. She used to be in such
demand at meetings. But she's given it all up. She blames herself for
leaving father so much and not going out to the country with him. He
never asked her to leave the city but I know he wanted to. When he
died she just came out here to do penance. She thought there wasn't
anything for her to do in a place like this. But just wait till I tell
her about Jim Tumley. Oh, she'll know what to do. Why, mother's
wonderful in her way, David! Why, I just know she can do something for
Jim Tumley."

David shook his head.

"Jocelyn," he sighed, "it'll take this whole town and God Almighty too
to save Jim Tumley now."

"Well, mother will do her share. And, Dav--id, I'd like another
kiss--if you don't mind."

David didn't mind in the least.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE MORNING AFTER

The very best part of every Green Valley doing is talking it over the
morning after.

Nobody even pretended to work the morning after the minister's party.
Dell Parsons never even brushed out her lovely hair that morning; just
wound it round her head in two big braids and went through the little
gate in the hedge to talk it over with Nan Turner.

She found Nan standing over a steaming dishpan, stirring the dishes
about absent-mindedly with the pancake spoon. At the sight of Dell she
turned her back on the cluttered sink.

"Dell, I'm only just beginning to take in the meaning of what that
little neighbor girl of ours said last night. Why, Dell Parsons, we've
both been born in this here town; we're only twenty-two miles out from
the heart of one of the world's greatest cities and we've never sensed
the true meaning of this thing they call woman suffrage and
prohibition. Why, we've poked fun at it and jogged along our ignorant
hayseed way and watched and watched little sweet-hearted men like Jim
Tumley just stumble miserably into their graves, or a man like Sears
drive his children from their home and curse his wife, or perhaps we've
shuddered at the sight of Hank Lolly lying drunk in the road among the
wild flowers.

"When one of our drunkards dies we cut our choicest flowers and go to
the funeral and maybe cry with the wife and children and then go home
and wait for the next one to do it. Of course, we talk to the children
and try to scare the boy