In her little blue-gingham morning dress, out of which her neck flowered white and ever beautiful of nape, Lilly crumbled up her biscuit, eyes miserably down, the red-hot pricklings which invariably accompanied these scenes flashing over her and a crowding in her throat as if she must tear it open for language to make them understand. "Talk to your father, now! Tell him some of the things you hound me with." "Lilly, what seems to be the trouble?" "I--I don't know. Mamma gets so excited right away. I just happened to mention that--I don't know what to do with myself." "Do with yourself! Help me in the house. I can give you enough to do with yourself. I don't get lonesome." "Carrie, now, don't holler." "That's the way she is, papa. She gets excited and hollers at me because I can't get interested in sewing clubs and housework." "It's because you've got it too good that you're not satisfied. That Flora Kemble, that never has a decent thing to wear, gets engaged to a--" "Now, Carrie, that's no way to talk." "Mamma always makes me feel uncomfortable because I'm not married yet." "Now do you believe what I go through with, Ben?" "You haven't any faith in me, but--somewhere--destiny, or whatever you want to call it, has a job waiting for me!" "That's too poetical for me to keep up with. Thank goodness I'm a plain woman who knows her place in life." "Exactly, mamma. It isn't that I consider myself above Flora's party to-morrow night. It's not my place. I don't belong there. I hate it, I tell you." "You hear that, Ben? That's the thanks I get. You know the way I've tried to make this little home one a child could be proud of. Take the time that fine young Bryant fellow came to call. Why, that little parlor of ours was fit for a princess. His knuckles didn't suit her! They cracked, she said. I've heard of lots of excuses for not taking to boys, but that beats all. Three girls out of the sewing club already married and Flora engaged to that well-to-do Bankhead boy, and mine holds herself above them all." "Your mother isn't all wrong, Lilly." "I've run my legs off for the white organdie so Katy Stutz could make it up for Flora's engagement party to-morrow night. Does she appreciate it? Oh yes, long face is the kind of appreciation I get." "I'd rather stay home, mamma, and practice my singing or read--anything--" "You'll sing _there_. Mrs. Kemble has it all fixed for Flora to call on you just before the refreshments. If you begin to pout about this party, Lilly, I--" "Oh," cried Lilly, turning her face away to hide the embitterment of lip and still crumbling up her biscuit, "don't worry. I'm going if--if it kills me." Suddenly Mrs. Becker's face quivered ominously, the impending storm-cloud bursting. "I wish I was dead. What do I get out of it? Struggle and sacrifice, and all for an ungrateful daughter that isn't happy in her home." "It isn't that. Just let me be--myself!"