"Hain't you perty enough without them?" he asked, indicating the lip
stick and rice powder. "Us folks hain't used to 'em, much.... Wunst we
give a home-talent play here, and there come a feller from Boston to
help out. Mis' Blossom was into it, and he come around to paint her up.
She jest give him one look, and says, says she, 'I hain't never painted
my face yit, and I don't calc'late to start in now.' ... I got to admit
she looked kind of pale and peeked amongst the rest, but she stuck to
her principles."

Yvette stared at Scattergood, nonplused for the first time. What did he
mean? How was she to take him? His face was serene and there was no
glint of humor in his eye.... Yet, somehow, she gathered the idea he was
chuckling inwardly and that there resided in him a broad and tender
toleration for the little antics and makeshifts of mankind. Possibly he
was holding Mrs. Blossom up to her as a model of rectitude; perhaps he
was asking her to laugh with him at a foible of one of his own people.
She wished she knew which.

"Calc'late on marryin' Homer?" he asked.

"I--"

"Yes or no--quick."

"Yes," she said, lifting her chin bravely.

"Um!... Knowed him four days, hain't you? Think it's long enough? Plenty
of time to figger it all out?"

She sat down on the bed, drooping wearily. "I'm tired," she said, "awful