"Oh, I've three of them rolled up in my trunk; aren't three enough to
begin on? And shirtwaists--I'm sure I don't know how many of those. I'll
go and get them now."

In the hall she stopped at the mirror, jibing at the image confronting
her. "You've done it this time, Theodosia Baxter! When you can't bear a
wrinkle! But, there, don't look so scared--daughters inherit their
mothers' talents, plenty of times. And you need only try it once, of
course."

After Stefana had gone away, doubly laden with clothes and bulky baby,
Miss Theodosia remained on her porch. She found herself leaning over and
parting her porch-vines, to get a glimpse of the little house next door.
She had always loathed that little house with its barefaced poverties
and uglinesses, and it had been a great relief to her to have it stand
vacant in past years. She had left it vacant when she started upon her
last globe-trotting. Now here it was teeming with life, and here she was
aiding and abetting it! What new manner of Theodosia Baxter was this?

"You'd better get up and globe-trot again, Woman, and not unpack," she
uttered, with a lone woman's habit of talking to herself. "You were
never made to live in a house like other people--to sit on porches and
rock. And certainly, Theodosia Baxter, you were never made to live next
to that little dry-goods box. It will turn you gray, poor thing." She
felt a gentle pity for herself, then gentle wrath seized her. Why had
she come home, anyway? Already she was lonely and restless. Why--could
anybody tell her why--had she weakly yielded to two small girls? Her
dear-beloved white dresses! And she could not go back on her
promise--not on a Baxter promise! There was, indeed, the release of