room might intimidate this Western girl, but instead of intimidation
there was exultation. She looked about her very coolly, but
afterward, upon her return to East Mordan, Illinois, she bragged a
good deal about it. The room was really very charming and rather
costly. The furniture was genuine First Empire; the walls, which were
hung with paper covered with garlands of roses, were decorated with
old engravings; there was a quantity of Dresden ware and there was a
little tiled bathroom. Over a couch in the bedroom lay a kimona of
white silk embroidered with pink roses. Afterward Martha made cruel
fun of her Aunt's pink crepe and made her buy a kimona.

"Shall I send up my maid to assist you in unpacking, Miss
Wallingford?" inquired Margaret, inwardly wondering how the dinner
would be managed if the offer were accepted. To her relief, Martha
gave her an offended stare. "No, thank you, Mrs. Edes," said she, "I
never like servants, especially other peoples', mussing up my
things."

When Margaret had gone, Martha looked about her, and her mouth was
frankly wide open. She had never seen such exquisite daintiness and
it daunted her, although she would have died rather than admit it.
She thought of her own bedroom at home in East Mordan, Illinois, with
its old black walnut chamber set and framed photographs and chromos,
but she maintained a sort of defiant pride in it even to herself. In
Martha Wallingford's character there was an element partaking of the
nature of whalebone, yielding, but practically unbreakable, and
sometimes wholly unyielding. Martha proceeded to array herself for
dinner. She had not a doubt that it would be a grand affair. She
therefore did not hesitate about the white silk, which was a robe of
such splendour that it might not have disgraced a court. It showed a