“Give ’em exercise, along of their exercises,” said Martha.

“The church in the village is certainly three miles off.”

“My husband don’t go to church as reg’lar as I might wish,” Mrs. Slawson observed.  “I tell’m, the reason men don’t be going to church so much these days, is for fear they might hear something they believe.”

“You would find country life tame, perhaps, after the city.”

“Well, the city life ain’t been that wild for me that I’d miss the dizzy whirl.  An’ anyhow—­we’d be together!” Martha said.  “We’d be together, maybe, come our weddin’-day.  The fourth o’ July.  We never been parted oncet, on that day, all the fifteen years we been married,” she mused, “but—­”

“Well?”

“But, come winter, an’ Mis’ Sherman opens the house again, an’ wants Miss Claire back, who’s goin’ to look out for her?”

“Why—­a—­as to that—­” said Mr. Ronald, so vaguely it sounded almost supercilious to Claire.

In an instant her pride rose in revolt, rebelling against the notion he might have, that she could possibly put forth any claim upon his consideration.

“O, please, please don’t think of me, Martha,” she cried vehemently.  “I have entirely other plans.  You mustn’t give me, or my affairs, a thought, in settling your own.  You must do what’s best for you.  You mustn’t count for, or on, me in the least.  I have not told you before, but I’ve made up my mind I must resign my position at Mrs. Sherman’s, anyway.  I’ll write her at once.  I’ll tell her myself, of course, but I tell you now to show that you mustn’t have me in mind, at all, in making your plans.”

Martha’s low-pitched voice fell upon Claire’s tense, nervous one with soothing calmness.

“Certaintly not, Miss Claire,” she said.

“And you’ll write to your husband and report to him what I propose,” suggested Mr. Ronald, as if over Claire’s head.

“Shoor I will, sir!”

“And if he likes the idea, my secretary will discuss the details with him later.  Wages, duties—­all the details.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you may tell the children I’ll leave orders that the car be sent for them some other day.  I find it’s not convenient, after all, for me to take them myself this afternoon.  I spoke too fast in proposing it.  But they’ll not be disappointed.  Mr. Blennerhasset will see to that.  I leave town to-night to be gone—­well, indefinitely.  In any case, until well on into the autumn or winter.  Any letter you may direct to me, care of Mr. Blennerhasset at the office, will be attended to at once.  Good-by, Martha!—­Miss Lang—­” He was gone.

When the car had shot out of sound and sight, Martha withdrew from the window, from behind the blinds of which she had been peering eagerly.

“He certainly is a little woolly wonder, meaning no offense,” she observed with a deep-drawn sigh.  “Yes, Mr. Ronald is as good as they make ’em, an’ dontcher forget it!”