Lydia, sitting on the front steps in the lovely September afternoons, rubbed Adam's ears, watched the pine and the Norton herds and thought some long, long thoughts. Finally, one hazy Saturday afternoon, she gathered a great bunch of many colored asters and started off, without telling Lizzie of her destination. It was nearly five o'clock when she stopped at the Marshalls' gate. The front of the house was closed, but nothing daunted, she made her way round to the kitchen door, which was open. Elviry answered her rap. "Oh, it's Lydia," she said, brusquely. "What do you want?" "I brought Marg some flowers," answered Lydia, awkwardly. Elviry hesitated. "Margery's been having a headache and I don't know as she'd want to see you." Lydia was not entirely daunted. "Well, if you're getting supper you might let me come and sit in the kitchen a few minutes. It's quite a walk in from the cottage." Elviry opened the screen door and Lydia marched in and paused. Dave Marshall was sitting by the kitchen table, his hat on the back of his head, a pile of newspapers on the floor beside him. He did not speak to Lydia when she came in, but Lydia nodded brightly at him and said, "You like to sit in the kitchen, the way Dad does, don't you?" She sat down in the rocker by the dining-room door and Elviry began to stir a kettle of catsup that was simmering on the back of the stove. This was worse than Lydia had thought it would be. She had not calculated on Dave's being at home. However, her fighting blood was up. "You haven't asked me about my clothes, Mrs. Marshall," she said. "Don't you think I did pretty well with this skirt?" Elviry glanced at the blue serge skirt. "It'll do," she answered listlessly. Lydia looked at Dave desperately. At that moment there was a light step in the dining-room, and Margery came into the kitchen. When she saw Lydia she gasped. "Hadn't you heard? Oh, Lydia! You came anyhow!" and suddenly Margery threw herself down and sobbed with her face in Lydia's lap. Elviry threw her apron over her head and Dave, with a groan, dropped his head on his chest. For a moment, there was only the crackling of the fire in the stove and Margery's sobs to be heard. Then Dave said, "What did you come for, Lydia? You only hurt yourself and you can't help us. I don't know what to do! God! I don't know what to do!" "I don't see why everybody acts so," cried Elviry, "as if what you'd done was any worse than every one else's doings." Margery raised her head. "Of course it's worse! A thousand times worse! I could have stood Dad's even having an Indian wife, better than this." Dave looked at Margery helplessly and his chin quivered. Lydia noticed then how old he was looking.