"Ma means, as long as she lives she'll never die in the country," Martha supplied.
"Well, if it comes to dyin' itself, I'd rather die where there was moar to be folla'in' me. I sa' to me son Sammy's wife, often an' often, 'When I die don't ye go to anny gr'reat expense for me funerll. I should want ye lay me out decent, but plain, an'——'"
Martha shrugged good-naturedly. "An' I always answer back, 'Don't ye trouble yourself. In such cases they ain't accustomed to consult the corpse.'"
"But you're not thinking of dying yet," Claire said. "I'm sure you're not."
The old woman shook her head. "No, I don't wanta die—not while the sun shines so bright, an' the evenin' star's so pretty."
"Of course you don't. And you're not going to die for ever and ever so long. You only feel a little low-spirited sometimes, perhaps. Isn't that it? The country seems strange to you, I have no doubt. Why don't you make some visits to your other sons and daughters?" Mrs. Ronald suggested craftily. "That would be a fine plan, I think. How glad they would be to see you after your long separation. And, oh, Martha, talking of visits—you know the visitor I told you we are expecting in August? I'm thinking of fitting up a little room especially for—for her. I have sent to Grand Rapids for all my dear old things, because I've a fancy they'll help to make her feel as happy as they used to make me, and perhaps then she won't get homesick, and want to slip away from us as—as visitors do, sometimes. My curtains were lovely, but I think they need a stitch here and there. If you will put them in order for me—mend them thoroughly, and launder them in your finest style, I'll give you—let me see! the cleaners in town asked me fifteen dollars. I'll pay you fifteen dollars."
Fifteen dollars! Martha's eyes gleamed. Here was her opportunity to earn the price of her ticket to New York and back.
"You'll do it?"
"You betcher—I'll do it with pleasure, an' thank you for the chance, Miss Claire. An'—my! but if here ain't Dr. Ballard, comin' up the walk!"
Martha performed the act of introduction with dignity, then quietly effaced herself, silently signaling her family to "fade away, an' make room for your betters."