injury to Ellen's belated social opportunities.

"Why--you see--we--" she began, in an agony of embarrassment, "we
can't--we can't--" Her voice failed her. She looked fleetingly at
Mary Louise, who returned the gaze with a look hurt, accusing,
difficult to meet. She drew her breath sharply, and began again
with more resolution. "We'll have an extra maid in to help with
the serving. If you don't mind staying in the dining room with
her--" She ceased and waited hopefully, to see if the girl
understood. There was an uncertain silence. She must finish.
"Ma'Lou, if you'd stay in the dining room with Tillie, and
wouldn't mind wearing a--cap--and apron like she does, why you
could come over and look on."

Ellen Kendrick had seen somebody coming down the street. It was
Emory Ford, and she flushed and dimpled and smiled as she bowed
to him, forgetting everything else, including the departing Mary
Louise, who, after one mute look at Mrs. Kendrick's flushed,
disturbed face, turned and walked with hanging head toward the
house on the corner.

Arrived at home, she went methodically to work upon the promised
candies and the little baskets that were to contain them. Ezra
Jackson's wife, noting the face of set misery, forbore long to
question her as she brought out the novel materials and pursued
her work.

The afternoon wore on. Mrs. Jackson was at work at her
sewing-machine in the front hall; but she could not keep out of
the kitchen, she made continual futile errands through it, giving