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remembered his words as she pulled the torn dress over her head and replaced it with a mended nightie.
    "We've never been fancy, but we try an' be proper."
    "Well, Mr. Proper, what could ya do when ya had nothin' to make yerself proper with?"
    Marty fell into bed, and as the events of the day crowded through her mind-- the spilled coffee, the tantrum-throwing Missie, the frantic search, more pancakes-- a sob arose in her throat, and again she cried herself to sleep. If Clem were only there, her world would be made right again.
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    Chapter 6
    Housecleanin'
    The next morning showed a cloudy sky as Marty looked out of the window. The weather was changing. It wouldn't be long until the beautiful Indian summer would have to give way to winter's fury, but not yet, she told herself. The day was still warm and the sky not too overcast. Perhaps the clouds would soon move away and let the sun shine again.
    Slowly she climbed from her bed. Surely today must be an improvement on yesterday she hoped. Already yesterday seemed a long way in the past-- and the day before-- the day that she had buried Clem-- . Marty could hardly believe that that had happened only two brief days ago. Two days that had seemed forever.
    Marty slipped into the gingham that she had mended the night before, cast a glance in Missie's direction and quietly moved toward the door. She did hope that the early morning scene of yesterday would not be repeated. She didn't know if she could take it again.
    She put on the coffee and set the dishes on the table, then started the preparations for the morning pancakes.
    "Dad-blame it." She bit her lip. "I'm tired of pancakes myself."
    It hadn't seemed so bad to have pancakes over and over when that was all that was available, but with so much good food at her disposal, it seemed a shame to be eating pancakes.
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    She'd have to figure something out, but in the meantime they needed breakfast. She went out for another piece of side bacon.
    Missie awoke and without incident allowed Marty to dress her. Score one point for that! She placed her in the homemade chair and pulled it back from the table to keep small fingers from pulling things off.
    When Clark came in from the barn the breakfast was ready and Missie sat well behaved in her chair. Clothed and in her right mind, Clark mused. He did not bother to say it aloud, for he feared that the context would be missed by Marty.
    They sat down together at the table and after the morning reading and prayer, breakfast proceeded without anything out of the ordinary happening.
    Marty watched carefully, even though on the sly, for the emptying of Clark's coffee cup, but when she jumped for the pot he waved it aside.
    "I'd like to but I'd better not take me a second cup this mornin'. The sky looks more like winter every day an' .Jedd still has him some grain out. I'm gonna git on over there as quick as I can-- " he hesitated "-- but thet's good coffee."
    Marty poured her own second cup and put the pot back. The only thing that he could say about her was that she made good coffee. Well, maybe she was lucky that she could do that much!
    Clark stopped at the door and said over his shoulder. "I'll be eatin' my dinner with the Larsons agin." Then he was gone.
    This time Missie's complaining lasted only a few minutes. Marty's thoughts turned to his words. "Bet he's tickled pink to be able to have 'im one meal a day to the Larsons. Wouldn't it be a laugh should Missus Larson give 'im pancakes."
    In spite of herself Marty couldn't keep a smile from flitting across her face. Then she sat down to leisurely enjoy her second cup of coffee and plan her day.
    First she would completely empty and scrub out the kitchen cupboards and then she'd go on to the rest of the kitchen, the walls, window, curtains. By night, she vowed, everything would be shining.
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    She didn't spend as long over her coffee as she had intended, for, as she planned her day, she became anxious to begin it.
    She hurriedly washed up