When the thought of trying to refine the somewhat rude household in which she dwelt occurred to her, she discovered that the work was already well begun, for the chief condition of success was present—­the disposition to do as she would like.  The Atwoods soon surmised that the family was in trouble of some kind, and were able to distinguish between pride of caste and a sorrowful preoccupation.  It was scarcely in Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred’s nature to speak otherwise than gently and kindly, and so without trying they disarmed their hosts and won their sympathy.  Notwithstanding their dejection and lassitude, they maintained the habits of their lives, and unwittingly gave Mrs. Atwood and her daughter a vague impression that neatness, attractiveness, and order were as essential as good morals.

At first Roger had dressed more roughly than ever, in order to assert his right to his old ways, but as Mildred did not protest even by a glance, he next took pains to show her that he had “good clothes” if he chose to wear them.  This fact she also accepted without the faintest interest, and so at last he was rather nonplussed.  He was not accustomed to being politely ignored, and since he felt a growing interest in this new type of girl, he had an increasing desire to make her aware of his existence.  “Hang it all,” he would mutter, “I’m no more to her than Jotham and the other farm animals.  What can a fellow do to make her look at him as if she saw him?  She’s very kind and polite and all that; she’d as soon hurt the brindle cow as me, but this fact is not very flattering.  However, I’ll find you out, my lady, and you too shall learn that the one whom you now regard as an object merely has a will and a way of his own.”

Therefore it may be guessed that in Roger Mildred might discover more docility and plastic readiness than she desired.  Only old Mr. Atwood and Jotham seemed incorrigible material; but she did not despair even of them, and resolved to set about reclaiming this family from barbarism at once.

CHAPTER VII

COMPARISONS

“Mrs. Atwood,” said Mildred one Saturday evening, “I’ll go with you to church to-morrow if you’ll let me.  Belle has been once, and it will be my turn to-morrow.”

“Oh, certainly, miss; you will go with Roger in the buggy, I s’pose, like Miss Belle.”

“If you please, I’d rather go with you.”

“Really, miss, the roads have been muddy of late, and the wagon isn’t very nice.”

“I would rather go with you,” pleaded Mildred, with an appeal in her blue eyes that few resisted.

“Father,” said Mrs. Atwood, as soon as her husband came in, “Miss Jocelyn wishes to go with us to meeting to-morrow.  Can’t you or Roger tidy up the wagon a bit?  ’Tain’t fit for her to ride in.”

“There’tis again—­more time spent in fixing up and fussing than in looking after the main chance.  You are all gettin’ too fine for plain farmin’ people.”