Then for three weeks the household went about its business. Lottie sewed at the Red Cross shop; Aunt Charlotte knitted; Mrs. Payson talked Liberty Bonds, managed her household, protested at the increased cost of living, berated Belle for what she termed her extravagance, quizzed Henry about his business at the Friday night family dinner. At the end of the month Hulda left to marry her unmartial Oscar. Though she and Mrs. Payson had carried on guerilla warfare for years, Hulda, packing her trunk, wept into the crochet-edged trousseau and declared that Mrs. Payson had been, of all mistresses, the kindest. Mrs. Payson, on her part, facing the prospect of breaking in a pert new incompetent at a weekly wage far beyond that of the departing and highly capable Hulda, forgave her everything, including her weakness for coffee. She even plied her with a farewell cup of that black brew as Hulda, dressed for departure, sat waiting red-eyed in the kitchen for the drayman. With the advent of a new maid Jeannette began to take her meals with the family. Somehow the kitchen was no longer the place for Jeannette. She had acquired a pretty manner, along with a certain comeliness of feature and figure. It had been a sudden blossoming. Hers were the bright-eyed assurance, the little upward quirk at the corners of the mouth, the preenings and flutterings of the duckling who is transformed miraculously into a swan. Jeannette had a "boy friend." Jeannette had invitations for every night in the week (censored by Mrs. Payson). Jeannette went to the War Camp Community dances on Saturday nights at the Soldiers' and Sailors' Club and was magically transformed from a wall-flower into a rose. Jeannette, the erstwhile plain, bloomed into beauty--the beauty that comes of being told one is beautiful and desirable. She danced expertly and gracefully (private sessions with Charley had accomplished this) and she had endless patience with the wistful lads from the near-by naval training station and camps who swarmed into the city on leave, seeking diversion where they could find it. At these carefully supervised Community affairs Jeannette danced with boys from Texas and boys from Massachusetts; boys from Arizona and Kansas and Ohio and Washington. But though she danced with them all with indefatigable patience and good-humour it was Nebraska's step that perfectly matched her own after the first few weeks and it was Nebraska who took her home at a gallop in order not to overstay his shore leave. Nebraska was an embryo ensign. He talked of the sea as only a boy can who has known but the waves of the wheat rippling before the wind across miles of inland prairie. When Lottie suggested that Jeannette invite Nebraska to dinner on Sunday Mrs. Payson, surprisingly enough, agreed. They made conversation. "And where is your home?" "I'm from Nebraska, ma'am." "Oh, Nebraska!" "Yes, ma'am." "How do you like Chicago?"