"She was a pretty woman, distinguished for a look of weariness and a mortal fear of fat. She had done nothing so hard an' so long, that, to her, nothing was all there was in the world—save fat. She was so busy about it that she couldn't sit still an' rest. She wandered from one chair to another, smokin' a cigarette, an' now and then glancin' at her image in a mirror an' slyly feelin' her ribs to see if she had gained flesh that day. She liked me because I was unlike any other man she had met. I poked fun at her folly an' all the grandeur of the place. I amused her as much as she amused me, perhaps. Anyhow, we got to be good friends, an' the next Sunday we all drove out in a motor-car to see Lizzie. Mrs. Bill wanted to meet her. Lizzie had become famous. She was walkin' up an' down the lawn with the infant in a perambulator, an' the small boy toddling along behind her. We left Mrs. Bill with Lizzie an' the kids, an' set out for a tramp over the big farm. When we returned we found the ladies talkin' earnestly in the house.
[Illustration: We set out for a tramp over the big farm.]
"Before we left I called Lizzie aside for a minute.
"'How do you get along with these babies?' I asked.
"'They're the life of our home. My father and mother think they couldn't live without them.'
"'An' they're good practice for you,' I suggested. 'It's time you were plannin' for yourself, Lizzie.'
"'I've no prospects,' said she.
"'How is that?'
"'Why, there's only one boy that I care for, an' he has had enough of me.'
"'You don't mean Dan?'