“She’ll kick the whole thing over if she goes on so,” Tim had said to his father, in Melinda’s hearing, and so, like a true friend to Richard, Melinda determined to try and prevent the proud little feet from doing so much mischief.

Nor was she unsuccessful.  Ethelyn saw the drift of the conversation, and though for an instant her cheek crimsoned with resentment that she should be talked at by Melinda Jones, she was the better for the talking, and the Olney people, when next they come in contact with her, changed their minds with regard to her being so very proud.  She was homesick at first, and that was the cause of her coldness, they said, excusing her in their kind hearts, and admiring her as something far superior to themselves.  Even Tim Jones got now and then a pleasant word, for Ethelyn had not forgotten the hundred extra votes.  She would have repelled the insinuation that she was courting favor or that hopes of the future governorship for Richard had anything to do with her changed demeanor.  She despised such things in others; but Ethelyn was human, and it is just possible that had there been nothing in expectancy she would not have submitted with so good a grace to the familiarities with which she so constantly came in contact.  At home she was cold and proud as ever, for between her mother-in-law and herself there was no affinity, and they kept as far apart as possible, Ethelyn staying mostly in her room, and Mrs. Markham, senior, staying in the kitchen, where Eunice Plympton still remained.

Mrs. Markham had fully expected that Eunice would go home within a few days after Ethelyn’s arrival; but when the days passed on, Ethelyn showed no inclination for a nearer acquaintance with the kitchen—­“never even offering to wipe the teacups on washing days,” as Mrs. Markham complained to James, and John, and Andy—­the good woman began to manifest some anxiety on the subject, and finally went to Richard to know if “he expected to keep a hired girl all winter or was Ethelyn going to do some light chores.”

Richard really did not know; but after a visit to his room, where Ethie sat reading in her handsome crimson wrapper, with the velvet trimmings, he decided that she could “not do chores,” and Eunice must remain.  It was on this occasion that Washington was broached, Mrs. Markham repeating what she heard Ethelyn saying to Melinda, and asking Richard if he contemplated such a piece of extravagance as taking his wife to Washington would be.  In Richard’s estimation there were other and weightier reasons why Ethelyn should remain quietly at home that winter.  He did not especially mind the expense she might be to him, and he owned to a weak desire to see her queen it over all the reigning belles, as he was certain she would.  Unbiased by his mother, and urged by Ethelyn, he would probably have yielded in her favor; but the mother was first in the field, and so she won the day, and Ethie’s disappointment was a settled thing.  But Ethie did not know it, as Richard