She found a refuge in the Jolly Seventeen.  She suddenly understood that they could be depended upon to laugh with her at Mrs. Bogart, and she now saw Juanita Haydock’s gossip not as vulgarity but as gaiety and remarkable analysis.

Her life had changed, even before Hugh appeared.  She looked forward to the next bridge of the Jolly Seventeen, and the security of whispering with her dear friends Maud Dyer and Juanita and Mrs. McGanum.

She was part of the town.  Its philosophy and its feuds dominated her.

III

She was no longer irritated by the cooing of the matrons, nor by their opinion that diet didn’t matter so long as the Little Ones had plenty of lace and moist kisses, but she concluded that in the care of babies as in politics, intelligence was superior to quotations about pansies.  She liked best to talk about Hugh to Kennicott, Vida, and the Bjornstams.  She was happily domestic when Kennicott sat by her on the floor, to watch baby make faces.  She was delighted when Miles, speaking as one man to another, admonished Hugh, “I wouldn’t stand them skirts if I was you.  Come on.  Join the union and strike.  Make ’em give you pants.”

As a parent, Kennicott was moved to establish the first child-welfare week held in Gopher Prairie.  Carol helped him weigh babies and examine their throats, and she wrote out the diets for mute German and Scandinavian mothers.

The aristocracy of Gopher Prairie, even the wives of the rival doctors, took part, and for several days there was community spirit and much uplift.  But this reign of love was overthrown when the prize for Best Baby was awarded not to decent parents but to Bea and Miles Bjornstam!  The good matrons glared at Olaf Bjornstam, with his blue eyes, his honey-colored hair, and magnificent back, and they remarked, “Well, Mrs. Kennicott, maybe that Swede brat is as healthy as your husband says he is, but let me tell you I hate to think of the future that awaits any boy with a hired girl for a mother and an awful irreligious socialist for a pa!”

She raged, but so violent was the current of their respectability, so persistent was Aunt Bessie in running to her with their blabber, that she was embarrassed when she took Hugh to play with Olaf.  She hated herself for it, but she hoped that no one saw her go into the Bjornstam shanty.  She hated herself and the town’s indifferent cruelty when she saw Bea’s radiant devotion to both babies alike; when she saw Miles staring at them wistfully.

He had saved money, had quit Elder’s planing-mill and started a dairy on a vacant lot near his shack.  He was proud of his three cows and sixty chickens, and got up nights to nurse them.

“I’ll be a big farmer before you can bat an eye!  I tell you that young fellow Olaf is going to go East to college along with the Haydock kids.  Uh——­Lots of folks dropping in to chin with Bea and me now.  Say!  Ma Bogart come in one day!  She was——­I liked the old lady fine.  And the mill foreman comes in right along.  Oh, we got lots of friends.  You bet!”