see that it was any prettier than her own, and she was not one to be disturbed by any pretence, if it were clever.

The third girl, or rather woman, at the ribbon counter looked with gravity and ill-concealed contempt upon both of them-the wearer of the real turquoise and the wearer of the sham. She would have worn neither. Neither the real nor the false ornamental superfluities of life had any place in her conception of its structure. She would have dispensed with all perianths and gargoyles in her architecture, and left but the pillars and brackets of support. In her opinion only use redeemed the existence of ornament. If she wore a brooch it was to fasten something, otherwise she left it in its little box in her bureau drawer. She had a plain gold one which had belonged to her mother.

This woman, Eliza Green, had been employed in Crosby's for years, and was trusted. She went now and then to New York to purchase ribbons, and her judgment as to quality and value was good, although her own taste was scarcely showy enough to suit the folk of this cheap, provincial, manufacturing city. She bought ribbons, as she looked upon the jewellery of her mates at the counter, with keen recognition of the taste of others, and contempt for it. She would under no circumstances have worn any of the ribbons which she purchased.

Eliza Green was supposed to be quite well to do, having doubtless saved from her salary, which had been increased from time to time, and having her own house free from encumbrance. Eliza had inherited a comfortable square house, half of which she rented out and lived herself in the other half. The house was some three miles from the city, in a farming district. Next door lived John Woodsum, who presently came into Crosby's, after hitching his horse before the store.

It was hot that afternoon. The concrete sidewalks yielded and sprang underfoot like sponge. The drug-store clerks wore white linen coats, and the waiting lines at the soda fountains were long.

John Woodsum had no work that day. The factory in which he was employed was running low, the midsummer heat seeming to affect the current of trade like that of a brook. He was going to marry Charlotte May, though few knew it. He had himself requested Charlotte not to speak of it.

'Not that I'm doing anything I'm ashamed of, nor you either,' he said, 'but I don't want folks talking about my affairs more

than I can help. There's three times a man has to be talked about, whether or no-when he's born, when he's married, and when he dies. I mean to get rid of all the others that I am able.'

So John Woodsum had taken the girl to drive, and escorted her home from meeting, and, as she had many other admirers, nobody was sure. Indeed, the general opinion was that she would not marry John Woodsum. Eliza Green dismissed the matter with a single reflection when Maud Lockwood told her that John Woodsum had taken Charlotte to drive the Saturday before.

She has not enough sense,' she thought.

Then she matched some ribbon for a customer, and thought no more about it. But when the young man stood in the store door that afternoon she felt a little surprise. She glanced quickly at Charlotte and saw that her delicate face was a deep pink. John himself advanced upon the counter with no embarrassment or change of colour, presenting that singular anomaly of utter rusticity with neither confusion nor shame-facedness. He wore his best clothes, but rose superior to even their clumsy stiffness. His face, large and somewhat heavy, had a certain dignity of expression which made up for the want of alertness. People were wont to say that John Woodsum wasn't so quick as some, but it would take a mighty smart man to get round him. Even his new hat, much too large for him, which he did not remove when he approached the counter, did not detract from his air of selfestablishment.

Eliza Green, who was rolling up some yards of blue ribbon, said, 'How do you do, John?' and went on with her work. Maud Lockwood said, 'Good afternoon, Mr. Woodsum,' in her sweet, artificially modulated voice, with a nod and smile which she saw as plainly as in a looking-glass.

Charlotte said nothing. She turned red, then pale, and half shrank away as John approached.

'Are you ready?' John inquired, in a deep voice, with no hesitation whatever; and Charlotte gazed at him hesitatingly for a second, her lips trembling, and her cheeks quite pale between her loops of flaxen hair.

'Are you ready?' the young man asked again, this time with a note of surprise. Then Charlotte replied, 'Yes,' hurriedly, and took her hat-a white, broad-brimmed one with perky bows of pale blue, turned up at the back with a profusion of cheap pink

flowers-from under the counter, put it on with trembling hands, and slipped past her mates.

What's Mr. Crosby going to say, dear, if you run away half an hour before it's time to close?' inquired Maud Lockwood. 'I saw him just now looking over here; and he didn't look any too sweet: I can tell you that.'

'Mr. Crosby knows, and he'll say nothing,' John Woodsum returned shortly. Then he and Charlotte went out, she walking rather weakly and carrying her head bent, with never a backward glance, and he assisted her into his open buggy before the store. Maud Lockwood turned to Eliza Green, with a brilliant flash of eyes and teeth.

Eliza Green did not change colour, but there was a swift contraction of the muscles around her mouth, and her eyes narrowed as before too much light.

'What makes you think so?' she asked, in her quiet, sustained voice. She rolled up some orange ribbon as she spoke, and not getting it quite straight unwound it, and re-rolled it carefully.

'Didn't you see she had on her new white dress and her best hat?'

Eliza nodded. She had noticed the flying white frills, and the pink flowers, as Charlotte went out of the store.

'Well, John Woodsum had on his Sunday clothes, and they had arranged it with Crosby, and two and two make four. They've gone to get married. It's just the way a stick like John Woodsum would set about getting married-no wedding and no anything. Charlotte has never had an engagement ring. I shouldn't wonder if he didn't give her a wedding one. Settling down with a man like that, to cook and to mend—a pretty girl like her!'

6

Maybe she hasn't.'

'Oh, yes, she has. Didn't you see her face when he came in? A girl don't look like that unless she's going to get married, or buried, or do something out of the common. Here's Crosby.

Ask him.'

Mr. H. F. Crosby, who just then came sauntering up, passing some customers with a suave hitch of his shoulders and an impatient wrinkle of his forehead, was unmarried, and people

credited him with an admiration for Maud Lockwood. She put her hand to her hair and pulled her shirt waist straight as he drew near.

Mr. Crosby,' she called, with confidential softness. Eliza Green went on rolling ribbons.

'Well?' returned Crosby, and the frown deepened. His hair was of a deep shade of red, and his eyes were like blue sparks. He was considered handsome, except for his hair.

'You needn't look so cross,' said Maud Lockwood, with a pout, carefully lowering her voice, that its familiarity should not be noticed. 'What has Charlotte May gone off half an hour before shutting up for? If you are getting partial I want to give notice.'

Maud laughed and her employer seemed to quail before her. There was a steady impetus about this girl which intimidated his nervous, irascible temperament, whose irascibility had no firm roots. Sometimes H. F. Crosby felt that Maud Lockwood could marry him if she chose, and he felt afraid of her. He tried to laugh, but with poor success, and his lips were pale.

'They've gone to call on the minister, I guess,' said he. Maud laughed triumphantly.

There, you can't cheat me,' she cried to Eliza, who was interweaving the ribbons hanging from the line overhead as imperturbably as a fate. 'How long have you known it?' she asked Crosby.

'Last night,' he replied shortly, and turned away as some one spoke to him. First aisle to the left, madam,' he said to the inquiring woman, and was gone.

Maud laughed again with shrewd malice. He's hit. I suspected it,' she said.

Eliza looked at her with the faintest shade of inquiring interest.

'Oh, you never see things. He's hung around this counter to see Charlotte, day in and out. Folks thought it was me, but it wasn't. However, I didn't want it to be me. I wouldn't marry a man like Crosby and put up with his tantrums. He'd have to get over 'em grand lively. But, on the whole, I'd just as soon take somebody that didn't need to be made over. Made-over things never fit so well,' said she, with an approving laugh at her own wit.

Not another customer approached the ribbon counter that afternoon. When it was time to close Eliza Green went home with her little lunch bag, She always carried her lunch, for

motives of economy. She walked, although the electric cars ran near her house, for the same reason.

When she came within sight of John Woodsum's house, which was just before her own, she saw a white flutter at the door, and knew that the bridal couple had got home. Eliza heard Charlotte's little soft giggle, as she turned in at her own gate. She had no sooner entered her own room than the woman who lived in the other side entered hastily, the scent of tea and baking biscuit following her, and a child calling her back shrilly.

'Do you know what has happened?' she whispered, as slyly as if John and his bride were within earshot.

'Yes,' replied Eliza, taking off her hat carefully and folding her veil.

Got married, without no weddin' nor a word to nobody! Drove over to the minister's in his own team, and brought her trunk under the seat. Land! I never had much to do with, but I got married in better shape than that. Had she said anything about it to you?'

'No, not a word,' replied Eliza.

The woman looked at her sharply.

'I didn't know but she had, as long as she worked at the same counter.'

'She didn't,' Eliza said. If you can let me have a little hot water I guess I won't make up a fire to-night, it's so warm.'

'You can have it jest as well as not. I see she's got a handsome white dress on, and a hat with pink flowers. Had she worn 'em before?'

'Yes, I guess she had.'

'I wonder if she's got a new silk dress.'

'I don't know,' replied Eliza, getting a pitcher out of her pantry.

'I don't believe she had,' said the woman. 'It would be just like John Woodsum not to want her to, even if she bought it with her own money. He's awful tight-fisted.'

She didn't have much to spend on silk dresses,' said Eliza; 'not much beside her board and washing.'

There was a scream from the woman's child on the other side, and she ran, Eliza following with her pitcher.

Every night when Eliza came home from the store the woman gave her a bulletin of the happenings next door. She had seen the bride at work in an old calico which had belonged to John's