don't care if they are wicked. If she
wants them she's going to have card-parties, and prizes, too, though
I 'most know it's as bad as gambling. And if she wants to have
dancing-parties (she knows how to dance) she's going to have them,
too. I don't think there's six girls in East Westland who know how to
dance, but there must be a lot in Alford, and the parlor is big
enough for 'most everything. She shall have every mite as much going
on as she would have in New York. She sha'n't miss anything. I'm
willing to have some dinners with courses, too, if she wants them,
and hire Hannah Simmons's little sister to wait on the table, with a
white cap on her head and a white apron with a bib. I'm willing Rose
shall have everything she wants. And then, you know, Henry, there's
the church sociables and suppers all winter, and she'll like to go to
them; and they will most likely get up a lecture and concert course.
If she can't be every mite as lively here in East Westland as in New
York, if I set out to have her, I'll miss my guess. There's lots of
beautiful dresses up-stairs that belonged to her aunt, and I'm going
to have the dressmaker come here and make some over for her. It's no
use talking, she's going to stay."

"Well, I am sure I hope she will," said Henry, still regarding his
wife with wonder.

"She is going to, and if she does stay, you know you can't go back to
work in the shop, Henry Whitman. I'd like to know how you think you
could set down to the table with her, smelling of leather the way you
used to."

"There might be worse smells."

"That's just because you are used to it."

"That's just it," cried Henry, pathetically. "Can't you get it
through your head, Sylvia? It is because I'm used to it. Can't you
see it's kind of dangerous to turn a man out of his tracks after he's
been in them so long?"

"There ain't any need for you to work in the shop. We've got plenty
of money without," said Sylvia, settling back immovably in her chair,
and Henry gave it up.

Sylvia considered that she had won the victory. She began sewing
again. Henry continued to look out of the window.

"She is a delicate little thing, and I guess it's mighty lucky for
her that she came to live in the country just as she did," Sylvia
observed.

"I suppose you know what's bound to happen if she and Mr. Allen stay
on in the same house," said Henry. "As far as I am concerned, I think
it would be a good arrangement. Mr. Allen has a good sala