“I will,” she said.

CHAPTER II

There was a storm at home over this decision, but Martie weathered it.  Even Sally demurred, observing that people would talk.  But one or two persons approved, and if Martie had needed encouragement, it would not have been wanting.

One of her sympathizers was Dr. Ben.  The two had grown to be good friends, and Martie’s boy was as much at home in the little crowded garden and the three-peaked house as Sally’s children were.

“You’re showing your common sense, Martie,” said the old man; “stick to it.  I don’t know how one of your mother’s children ever came to have your grit!”

“I seem to have brought little enough back from New York,” Martie said a little sadly.  “But at least what Monroe thinks doesn’t matter to me any more!  People do what they like in the East.”

“You’re coming on!” Dr. Ben smiled at his velvet wallflowers.

Surprisingly, Joe Hawkes was another ally.  He came back in May, penniless, but full of honours, and with his position in the new hospital secure.  A small, second-hand car, packed with Hawkeses of all ages, began to be seen in Monroe streets, and Sally grew rosier and fatter and more childish-looking every day.  Sally would never keep her hair neat, or care for hands or complexion, but evidently Joe adored her as he had on their wedding day.

“Your father’ll have nothing to leave, Martie,” Joe said.  “What little the Estates don’t eat up must go to Lydia, and if you make a start here, why, you’ll move on to something better!”

“Miss Fanny hasn’t moved on to something better,” Martie submitted with a dubious smile.

“Miss Fanny isn’t you, Mart.  She’s gotten a long way for her.  You know her father was the Patterson’s hired man, and her mother actually had town help for a while, when he died.  Now they have that cottage free of debt, and something in the Bank, and Miss Fanny belongs to the woman’s club—­that’s enough for her.  You can do better, and you will!”

“I like you, Joe!” said Martie at this, quite frankly, and her brother-in-law’s pleasant eyes met hers as he said: 

“I like you, too!”

Sally, herself, did not belong to the Woman’s Social and Civic Club; a fact that caused her some chagrin.  Rose had actually been president once, as had May Parker, and among the thirty-six or seven members she and May were pleasantly prominent.

“I never see Rose, but I should have thought she might elect me to the club,” Sally said to Martie.  “Unless, of course,” she added, brightening, “Rose realizes how busy I am, and that it really would be an extravagance.”

“But why do you want to go, Sis?  What do they do—­sit around and read papers?”

“Oh, well, they have tea, and they entertain visitors in town.  And they have a historical committee to keep up the fountains and statues—­well, I don’t care!” Sally interrupted herself with a reluctant smile as Martie laughed.  “It makes me sick for Rose to have everything and always be so smug!”