head now and was looking from under her lids at
Martha. "Just as he used to and sit around, or has
he--" Here she lifted her eyebrows in inquiry, and
a laugh bubbled out from between her lips.

"Yes, that's just what he does do," cried Martha
in a triumphant tone; "every minute he kin git.
And he can't come too often to suit me. I jest love
him, and I'm not the only one, neither, darlin',"
she added with a nod of her head toward Jane.

"And Barton Holt as well?" persisted Lucy.
"Why, sister, I didn't suppose there would be a man
for me to look at when I came home, and you've got
two already! Which one are you going to take?"
Here her rosy face was drawn into solemn lines.

Jane colored. "You've got to be a great tease,
Lucy," she answered as she leaned over and kissed
her on the cheek. "I'm not in the back of the doctor's
head, nor he in mine--he's too busy nursing the
sick--and Bart's a boy!"

"Why, he's twenty-five years old, isn't he?"
exclaimed Lucy in some surprise.

"Twenty-five years young, dearie--there's a difference,
you know. That's why I do what I can to
help him. If he'd had the right influences in his life
and could be thrown a little more with nice women