as her neighbor lingered for a moment and glanced at her with wistful
eyes. Mrs. Plunkett was small, though round, with mournful big eyes
and clad at all times in the most decorous of widow's weeds, even if
they were of necessity of black calico on week days. Soft little curls
fell dejectedly down over her eyes and her red mouth defied a dimple
that had been wont to shine at the left corner, and kept to confines
of straight-lipped propriety.

"It's about Louisa Helen again and her light-mindedness. I don't see
how a daughter of mine can act as she does with such a little feeling.
Last night Mr. Crabtree shut up the store before eight o'clock and put
on his Sunday coat to come over and set on the front steps a-visiting
of her, and in less'n a half hour that Bob Nickols had whistled for
her from the corner, and she stood at the front gate talking to him
until every light in Sweetbriar was put out, and I know it muster been
past nine o'clock. And there I had to set a-trying to distract Mr.
Crabtree from her giggling. We talked about Mr. Plunkett and all our
young days and I felt real comforted. If I can jest get Louisa Helen
to see what a proper husband Thomas Crabtree will make for her we can
all settle down comfortable like. He wants her bad, from all the signs
I can see."

"But--but isn't Louisa Helen a little young for--" began Rose Mary,
taking what seemed a reasonable line of consolation.

"No, she's not too young to marry," answered her mother with spirit.
"Louisa Helen is eighteen years old in May, and I was married to Mr.
Plunkett before my eighteenth birthday. He was twenty-one, and I
treated him with proper respect, too. I never said no such foolish
things as Louisa Helen says to that Nickols boy, even to Mr.