"Mother—say—Mr. Ronald, he was over to our house, huntin’ for Miss Claire. I guess he’s fearful worried." "Did he say he was worried?" "No, he didn’t, but he ast if I seen her, an’ he said it was past breakfast-time." "Now, what do you think o’ that!" exclaimed Martha. "Francie’s a little woman, ain’t you, Francie? She knows, when a gen’lman thinks it’s past meal time, it’s up to ladies to get a move on." Claire laughed. "I’ll go at once," she returned obediently. As Martha and Francie made their slow way back to the Lodge, Francie caught hold of her mother’s hand in a sudden access of childish affection. "Say, mother, I’m glad I’m your little girl, instead of anybody else’s," she brought out impulsively. "’Thank you, thank you, sir, she sayed. Your kindness I never shall forget!’ I return the compliment," Martha announced with much manner. "Mother, why does God want His name to be Hallow?" "I didn’t know He did." "Yes, He does. At the beginning of the Lord’s prayer, it says, ’Hallow would be thy name.’ Don’t you remember?" "Certaintly I do, now you mention it. But if you ask me why, Robin, I got to give in, I can’t tell you." "I thought mothers knew everything," Francie said pensively. Martha’s response was prompt. "Well, be this an’ be that, they do. Takin’ mothers all together, they certaintly do. But, each one has her own speciality, _an’_ if you ask _me_ questions about God, I tell you, truly, I ain’t got the answer, like I would have if I’d been to college, an’ belonged to the lemon-eye, same’s Miss Claire. On the other hand, _I_ may know things _she_ don’t, about other matters nearer home. You never can tell." "Cora says you don’t know what’s stylish. She says our clo’es are awful plain." "Now, what do you think o’ that! So Cora says I don’t know what’s stylish. Well, if _I_ don’t know what’s stylish, I don’t know who does, seein’ I was in an’ out o’ the toniest houses in New York City, an’ was personally acquainted with their dresses an’ their hats. That same Cora is called after one of the stylishest ladies ever you saw, Mrs. Underwood, which she is dead now, but, when she was alive, looked like a duchess. An’ you, yourself, are called after her daughter, Miss Frances, who married a l’yer, Judge Granville, but _could_ ’a’ had the pick o’ the land. Never fear, I know what stylish is. Only, I know the differnce between _ladies’_ stylish an’ ladies’-_maid’s_ stylish. I seen both. Style’s one thing. Loud’s another. I want my childern to be seen but not heard." "Mother, are you sorry Ma’s gone away for good? She told Cora, ’fore she went, that you didn’t know she ain’t comin’ back, but she ain’t. She said her heart was broke with the quiet up here. She said she’s goin’ to live with Uncle Dennis after this, or Uncle Andy, where it’s lively, an’ there’s more comin’ an’ goin’."