Martha stood looking at Pearl a minute, then suddenly threw her arms around her. "You are my good angel, Pearl Watson!" she cried. "You are always bringing me good things. Of course we'll take him, and be glad to have him; and I'll listen to him, you may be sure; and Pearl, I just can't help telling you that I'm so happy now—I can't tell you how happy I am."
Martha's brimming eyes seemed to contradict her words, but Pearl, who understood something of the springs of the heart, understood.
"I can't help being happy," Martha went on. "I tell myself that it's wicked for me to feel so glad Thursa's gone, when he's so miserable over it. But she wouldn't ever have suited him, would she, Pearl? She'd have made him miserable before long, and herself, too; but that's not all the reason that I'm glad she's gone," she added, truthfully.
Martha's face was hidden on Pearl's shoulder as she said this.
"I know about it," Pearl said. "I found it all out that day when you were showing me the room, and I'm just as pleased as you are, or pretty near. Of course, it would never have done for him to marry Thursa, and the way it all turned out would convince any one that Providence ain't feelin' above takin' a hand in people's affairs. She was nice and pretty, and all that, but she's the kind that would always have sour bread, and you bet, sour bread cuts love; she'd be just like Dave Elder's wife, it tires her dreadful to sweep the floor; but she can go to three dances a week, and then she lies on the lounge all day and says her nerves are bad. But, Martha, you do right to be glad. It's never wrong to be happy. God made everything to have a good time. Look at the gophers and birds, and even the mosquitoes—they have a bang-up time while it lasts. We've got to be happy every chance we get. Whenever you see it passin' by take a grab at it. I mind, when I was a wee little thing, I had a piece of bright blue silk that I had found, and it was just lovely; it put me through a whole winter takin' a look at it now and then. I had to stay at home while Ma was washing, and it was pretty cold in the house sometimes, but the blue silk kept me heartened up. It's just like a piece on Arthur's phonograph—here and there in it there's a little tinklin' song, so sweet and liltin' it just cuts into yer heart; but, mind you, you don't get much o' that at a time. There's all kinds of clatterin' crash, smash, and jabber on both sides of it, cuttin' in on both ends of it, and just when yer gettin' tired of rough house, in she sails again sweeter than ever, just puttin' yer heart crossways with the sweetness of it. It keeps ringin' in my ears all the time, that dear little ripplin', tinklin' tune, and perhaps it needed all that gusty buzzin' and rip-roarin' to drive the sweetness clean into you. That's the way it is always; Martha; we've got to listen for the little song whenever we can hear it."
"I am listening to it all the time, Pearl," Martha said softly. "It may not be meant for me at all, but it is sweet while it lasts, and I can't help hearing it, can I, Pearl?"
Pearl kissed her friend warmly and whispered words of hope, and then, fearing that this might be faith without works, heard her spell a page of words from Bud's old speller.
CHAPTER XXIX
MARTHA'S STRONG ARGUMENTS
"How does love speak?"