things, but, you see, she's been run on different lines, and we'll get
straight presently. She's a nice obedient little thing, and I do like to
see children mind at the first bidding."

"Your school is so near we thought we would try it this winter. Yes, I
think all will go right. Good-morning," and his heart lightened at the
thought of smoothing the way for Doris.

CHAPTER VI

A BIRTHDAY PARTY

Doris sat in the corner studying. Betty had gone over to Mme. Sheafe's
to make sure she had her lace stitch just right. They had been ironing
and baking all the morning, and now Mrs. Leverett had attacked her pile
of shirts, when Mrs. Morse came in. She had her work as well. Everybody
took work, for neighborly calls were an hour or two long.

Doris had been presented first, a kind of attention paid to her because
she was from across the ocean. Everybody's health had been inquired
about.

"I came over on a real errand," began Mrs. Morse presently. "And you
mustn't make excuses. My Jane is going to have a little company week
from Thursday night. She will be seventeen, and we are going to have
seventeen young people. The girls will come in the afternoon, and the
young men at seven to tea. Then they will have a little merrymaking. And
we want Warren and Betty. We are going to ask those we want the most
first, and if so happen anything serious stands in the way, we'll take
the next row."

"You're very kind, I'm sure. Warren does go out among young people, but
I don't know about Betty. She's so young."

"Well, she will have to start sometime. My mother was married at
sixteen, but that is too young to begin life, though she never regretted
it, and she had a baker's dozen of children."

"I'm not in any hurry about Betty. She is the last girl home. And the
others were past nineteen when they were married."

"We feel there is no hurry about Jane. But I've had a happy life, and
all six of us girls were married. Not an old maid among us."

"Old maids do come in handy oftentimes," subjoined Mrs. Leverett.

Yet in those days every mother secretly, often openly, counted on her
girls being married. The single woman had no such meed of respect paid
her as the "bachelor maids" of to-day. She often went out as housekeeper
in a widower's family, and took him and his children for the sake of
having a home of her own. Still, there were some fine unmarried women.

"Yes, they're handy in sickness and times when work presses, but