"Service," she said to herself, "and sacrifice. Giving, and not receiving. Asking--not answer." Yet she saw that, even now, this could be neither sacrifice nor denial, because it was something she had never had. She laughed, a trifle bitterly, and went on home, another thought keeping time with her footsteps. "The appointed thing comes at the appointed time in the appointed way. There is no terror save my own fear." XVII The Last Tryst [Sidenote: A Double Self] The shrill voices in the sitting-room rose higher and higher. Since the day Grandmother had read the article upon "Woman's Birthright" to Matilda, the subject of Mrs. Lee's hair had, as it were, been drowned in cucumber milk. When Rosemary came in from the kitchen, they appealed to her by common consent. "Rosemary, have you ever heard of anybody taking a stool and a pail and goin' out to milk the cucumbers before breakfast?" This from Aunt Matilda. "Rosemary, ain't you seen the juice of wild cucumbers when they spit their seeds out and ain't it just like milk, only some thicker?" This from Grandmother. "I don't know," Rosemary answered, mechanically. The queer sense of a double self persisted. One of her was calm and content, the other was rebellious--and hurt. "Humph!" snorted Grandmother. "Humph!" echoed Aunt Matilda [Sidenote: Going for the Paper] "It's Thursday," Grandmother reminded her, "and I heard the mail train come in some time ago. You'd better leave the sweepin' an' go and get my paper." "Yes, do," Aunt Matilda chimed in, with a sneer. "I can't hardly wait for this week's paper, more'n the other sufferin' five million can. Maybe there'll be a pattern for a cucumber milkin' stool in this week's paper; somethin' made out of a soap-box, with cucumber leaves and blossoms painted on it with some green and yellow house paint that happens to be left over. And," she continued, "they'd ought to be a pail too, but I reckon a tin can'll do, for the cucumbers I've seen so far don't look as if they'd be likely to give much milk. We can paint the can green and paste a picture of a cucumber on the outside from the seed catalogue. Of course I ain't got any freckles, but there's nothin' like havin' plenty of cucumber milk in the house, with hot weather comin' on." Grandmother surveyed Matilda with a penetrating, icy stare. "You've got freckles on your mind," she said. "Rosemary, will you go to the post-office and not keep me waiting?" The girl glanced at her brown gingham dress, and hesitated. "You're clean enough," Grandmother observed, tartly. "Anybody'd think you had a beau waitin' for you somewheres." [Sidenote: Young People's Calls] She flushed to her temples, but did not speak. Her face was still red when she went out, wearing a brown straw hat three Summers old. "The paper says," Grandmother continued, "that a blush is becomin' to some women, but Rosemary ain't one that looks well with a red face. Do you suppose she has got a beau?"