twins moved into the three rooms above the drugstore in Front Street. Emma stayed home from the restaurant all day, going and coming to and from the newly established household. She did and thought of everything, so that Naomi in the end gave up, and, sitting on the imitation-tapestry davenport, simply watched her mother-in-law arrange the new household. Mabelle was there, too, with little Jimmy, in the way most of the time, or making suggestions which Emma ignored. She was a creature whose feelings were not easily hurt and all Emma's bitter remarks seemed to have left no trace. When they had left Naomi with the three rooms in order, she even walked home with Emma, dragging the tired and whining Jimmy behind her.
As she hurried through the darkness after Emma's tall, robust form, she panted, "Well, things might go better now. I always think young people ought to start out in a house of their own."
"Yes," said Emma, certain from the remark that Naomi hadn't told Mabelle the whole truth.
"It's funny what a change has come over Philip. He's much nicer than he used to be."
"What on earth do you mean by that, Mabelle?"
Here Jimmy set up a yell—"I don't wanna walk! I wanna be carried!"
"All right, dear, only you mustn't cry. Little men don't cry."
"Well, I do. I'm tired. I don't wanna walk!"
"All right, dear." She bent down and picked up the child. He continued to whine, but at least their progress was not retarded.
"If he were my child, Mabelle," said Emma, "I'd
