was the "limit." They had a serious quarrel one day, when he told
her that she was the most selfish and spoiled woman he had ever
known. He called her attention to the other women of the town,
busy, contented women, sending children off to school, settling
babies down for naps in sunny dooryards, cooking and laughing and
hurrying to and fro.

"Yes, and look at them!" Cherry said with ready tears. "Shabby,
thin, tired all the time!"

"The trouble with you is," Martin said, departing, "you've been
told that you're pretty and sweet all your life--and you're
SPOILED! You are pretty, yes--" he added, more mildly. "But, by
George, you sulk so much, and you crab so much, that I'm darned if
I see it any more! All I see is trouble!"

With this he left her. Left her to a burst of angry tears, at
first, when she dropped her lovely little head on the blue gingham
of her apron sleeve and cried bitterly.

The kettle began to sing on the stove, a bee came in and wandered
about the hot kitchen; the grocer knocked, and Cherry let the big
lout of a boy stare at her red eyes uncaring.

Then she went swiftly into the bedroom and began to pack and
change. She'd SHOW Martin Lloyd--she'd SHOW Martin Lloyd! She was
going straight to Dad--she'd take the--take the--

She frowned. She had missed the nine o'clock train; she must wait
for the train at half-past two. Wait where? Well, she could only