Matt's face suddenly clouded. "I didn't think of that," he said, taking off his hat. "It is a small place for such as you, and I suppose Greenford is a real gay town--sociables, dances, and all that sort of thing?" "Yes, Greenford is considered very lively, and there's a great deal of wealth there--the cotton mills, you know. Then I often go to Portland and Brunswick." Mrs. Milliken suddenly appeared at the screen door. "Good-afternoon, Miss Berry. I'm baking a little something for supper and can't leave my oven. The kitchen's so hot I won't ask you inside, but if you an' Matthew'll set down under the big ellum, I'll bring you both out a try-cake in a minute." "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Milliken, but I'm afraid I ought to be going. I'll be late to supper, as it is." "You just set right down," called Mrs. Milliken, "an' I'll show you a one-egg cake that'll deceive you into thinkin' it's made with four, if it's et hot. Then Matt'll walk down as fur as the store with you and bring me back a can of baking-powder." "He might as well see all there is to see in her, and know all there is to know, which is mighty little, or I miss my guess!" said the old lady to herself as she took a straw out of the broom to try the cake. "Mebbe then he'll get her out of his system; though them pink and white paper-doll girls do have a way of keepin' holt of men-folks." Ten minutes later Matthew and Undine were walking down the hill while Mrs. Milliken watched them from behind the parlor curtains. Undine Berry was a beauty, there was no denying that! Her hair was spun gold, breaking into bewitching little waves and curls round her temples, her ears, and the nape of her neck. Her skin was perfect, her hands and feet small, her figure lovely. A person (female) intent upon finding flaws would have said her features were rather immature and meaningless and that her eyes, though of heaven's own blue in color, were a little cold and calculating, but Matthew Milliken saw no flaws. He thought of her as something so exquisite that he would have liked to put her under a glass case on his parlor melodeon. If only he could get far enough in friendship to fathom her likes and dislikes, her desires, her ambitions, so that he might guess whether there was any chance for a clumsy creature like himself to win her love! But he scarcely knew how to set about such a task. Every time he advanced, she seemed to retreat a little to fastnesses of thought where he was not at home. "Some folks don't seem to hold up their heads before the public nor care how their buildings look," Undine commented severely, as they passed a poor little house, forlorn, unpainted, lacking clapboards and shingles.