AT HOME WITH THE JARDINES

by

LILIAN BELL

Author of "Abroad with the Jimmies, " "Hope Loring, ", etc. 

A. Wessels CompanyNew York1906

Copyright, 1902by Harper & Brothers

Copyright, 1903by the Ridgway-Thayer Company

Copyright, 1904by Ainslee Magazine Co. 

Copyright, 1904by L. C. Page & Company (Incorporated)

(All rights reserved)

TO

Dr. John Sedgwick Billings, Jr. 

AND

Dr. John Clarendon Todd

WHOSE COURAGE, SKILL, AND WISDOM

SAVED A PRECIOUS LIFE

Contents

Chapter

 I. MARY II. THEORIES III. ON THE SUBJECT OF JANITORS IV. THE ANGEL AND THE AGENT V. HOW WE TAMED THE COOK VI. THE BEST MAN'S STORY VII. THE PRICE OF QUIET VIII. MOVING IX. HOW BEE TRIED TO MAKE US SMART X. OUR FIRST HOUSE-PARTY XI. ON THE GENTLE ART OF WASTING OTHER PEOPLE'S TIME XII. A LETTER FROM JIMMIE XIII. THE BREAKING UP OF MARY XIV. AND THEY LIVED HAPPY EVER AFTER

At Home with the Jardines

CHAPTER I

MARY

I have never dared even inquire why our best man began calling myhusband the Angel. He was with us a great deal during the first monthsof our marriage, and he is very observing, so I decided to let sleepingdogs lie. I, too, am observing. 

It is only fair to state, in justice to the best man, that I am a womanof emotional mountain peaks and dark, deep valleys, while the Angel isone vast and sunny plateau. With him rain comes in soothing showers, while rain in my disposition means a soaking, drenching torrent whichsweeps away cattle and cottages and leaves roaring rivers in its wake. But it took Mary to discover that the smiling plateau was bedded onsolid rock, and had its root in infinity. 

Mary is my cook!

Yet Mary is more than cook. She is my housekeeper, mother, trainednurse, corporation counsel, keeper of the privy purse, chancellor ofthe exchequer, fighter of exorbitant bills, seamstress, linen woman, doctor of small ills, the acme of perpetual good nature, and my bestfriend. 

Cheiro, when he read my palm, said he never before had seen a handwhich had less of a line of luck than mine. He said that I was obligedto put forth tremendous effort for whatever I achieved. But that wasbefore Mary selected me for a mistress, for Mary was my first bit ofpure luck. Our meeting came about in this way. 

We were at the Waldorf for our honeymoon, which shows how inexperiencedwe were, when a chance acquaintance of the Angel's said to him onenight in the billiard-room:

"Jardine, I hear that you are going to housekeeping!"

"Yes, " said Aubrey, "we are. "

"Has your wife engaged a cook yet?"

"Why, no, I don't believe she has thought about it. "

"Well, I know exactly the woman for her. Elderly, honest, experienced, cooks game to perfection, doesn't drink, thoroughly competent in everyway, and the quaintest character I ever knew. Lived in her last placetwenty-three years, and only left when the family was broken up. ShallI send her to see you?"

"Do, " said Aubrey. 

He forgot to tell me about it, so the next morning while he wasshaving, a knock came, and in walked Mary. I was in a kimono, writingnotes and waiting for breakfast to be sent up. Hearing voices, Aubreycame to the door with one-half of his face covered with lather, andsaid:

"Oh, yes. I forgot to tell you. Are you the cook sent by Mr. Zanzibar?"

"Yes, sir, " said Mary. 

Aubrey retired to the bathroom again, communicating with me inpantomime. 

I looked at Mary, and loved her. We eyed each other in silence for amoment. 

"Won't you sit down?" I said, looking at her white hair. 

"Thank you, but I'll stand. "

That settled it. I didn't care if she stole the shoes off my feet ifshe knew her place as well as that. Her face beamed; her skin wasfresh and rosy. Her blue eyes twinkled through her spectacles. 

"Would you, " I said, "would you like to take entire charge of twoorphans?"

She burst into a fit of laughter. 

"Is it you and your husband, you mean?"

"It is. I wish you would come and keep house for us. "

"I'd like to, Missis. I would, indeed. "

Again I looked at her and loved her harder. 

"Have you any references?" I asked. 

"None except the recommendations of the people who have been coming tothe house for twenty years. The family are all scattered. "

"I have none either, " I said. "Shall we take each other on trust?"

"If you are willing, " she laughed. 

And so we selected each other, and I am just as much flattered as shecould possibly be, for neither one so far has given the other notice. 

This sketch can only serve to introduce her, as it would take a book todo her justice. She has snow-white hair and a face in which decisionand kindness are mingled. She has a tongue which drops blessings anddenunciations with equal facility. Born of Irish parents, she belongsto the gentry, yet no fighting Irishman could match her temper whenroused, and the Billingsgate which passes through the dumb-waiterbetween our Mary and the tradespeople is enough to turn the colour ofthe walls. Yet though I have seen her pull a recreant grocery boy inby his hair, literally by his hair, tradesmen, one and all, adore her, and do errands for her which ought to earn their discharge, and theybring her the pick of the market to avoid having anything less choicethrown in their faces when they come for the next order. She made theice-man grind coffee for her for a week because he once forgot to comeup and put the ice into the refrigerator. 

She went among all the tradespeople, and named prices to them which wewere to pay if they obtained our valuable patronage. One little manwho kept a sort of general store was so impressed by her manner and theawful lies she told about the grandeur of her employers that hepresented her with a pitcher in the shape of the figure of Napoleon. Something so very absurd happened in connection with this pitcher somethree years later that I particularly remembered the time she got it, and the little man who gave it to her. 

She kept house for seven years in Paris, which explains her reverencefor food, for we have discovered that the only way to dispose of thingsis to eat them. Otherwise, in different guises, they return to usuntil in desperation the Angel sprinkles cigar-ashes over what is left. She pays all the bills and contests her rights to the last penny, oncekeeping the baker out of his whole bill for five months because hewould not recognize her claim for a receipted bill for eight centswhich she had paid at the door. As to her relation to us in a socialway, those of you who have lived in the South will understand herprivileges, when I say that she is a white "Mammy. " Her dear old heartis pure gold, and such her quick sympathy that if I want to cry I haveto lock myself in my room where she won't see me, for if she sees tearsin my eyes she comes and puts her arms around me and weeps, too, without even knowing why, but just with the heavenly pity of one ofGod's own, although before her eyes are dry she may be damning thebutcher in language which curdles the blood. 

She abhors profanity, and never mingles holy names in her sentenceswhich contain fluent d's, but being an excellent Catholic enables herto accentuate her remarks with exclamations which she says are prayers;and as these are never denunciatory her theory is most conscientiouslylived up to. 

In our first housekeeping, our rawness in all matters practical wrungMary's heart. She had grown up from a slip of a girl in the employ ofone family, and ours was only her second experiment in "living out. "As her first employers were people of wealth and with half-growngrandchildren when their magnificent home was finally broken up, youcan imagine the change to Mary of living with newly married people, engaged in their first struggle with the world. But ours was just theproblem which appealed to the motherly heart of our spinster Mary, forshe yearned over us with an exceeding great yearning, and of her valueto us you yourselves shall be the judge. 

The first thing I remember which called my attention to Mary's firmmanner of doing business was one day when I was writing letters in theAngel's study. We had only moved in the day before, and the ink on thelease was hardly dry, when I heard a great noise in the kitchen as ofmoving chairs on a bare floor and Mary's voice raised in fluentdenunciation. I flew to the scene and saw a strange man standing onthe table with his hands on the electric light metre over the door, while Mary had one hand on his left ankle, and the other on hiscoat-tails. Her very spectacles were bristling with anger. 

"Come down out of that, young feller!" she was crying, jerking bothcoat-tails and ankle of the unhappy man. 

"Leggo my leg!" he retorted. 

"_I'll_ pull your leg for you, " cried Mary, "old woman that I am, morethan any of your young jades, if you don't drop that metre. Come down, I say!"

"What is the trouble, Mary?" I asked. 

"Missis! The impidence of that brat! He's come to shut off theelectric light without a word of warning, and you going to have companythis blessed night for dinner. "

"Here are my orders, " said the man, sullenly. "I'd show them to you ifyou'd leggo my coat-tails, " he added, furiously. 

"I'll pull them off before I let go, " said Mary, grimly. "A pretty wayfor the New York Electric Light Company to do business _I_ say! If youwant a five-dollar deposit from the Missis why didn't you write andgive notice like a Christian? Do you suppose we are thieves? Are wegoing to loot the house of the electric bulbs, and go and live insplendour on the guilty sales of them?"

"Let me cut it off according to orders, and I'll go to the office andexplain, and come back and turn it on for you!" pleaded the man. 

But Mary's grasp on leg and coat was firm. 

"Not on yer life, " she said, derisively. "You'll come back this dayweek or next month at your own good pleasure, and Mr. Jardine will bedoing the explaining and the running to the office. Make up your mindthat the thing is going to be settled _my_ way, or you'll stay heretill you do. _I'm_ in no hurry. "

"Make her leggo of me, " he said to me. 

Mary gave me a look, and I obediently turned my back. The man slammedthe little door of the metre, and Mary let go of him. He climbed down. 

"I can turn it off in the basement just as well, " he said, with a grin. 

I was about to interfere and offer a cheque, but Mary was too quick forme. She took him by the arm, with a "Come, Missis, " and marched himbefore her, with me meekly following, to the telephone in the Angel'sstudy. 

"Now, then, young feller, call up the office!" she commanded. The manobeyed. Indeed few would have dared to resist. 

"Now get away and let the Missis talk to your boss. Tell him what wethink of such doings, Missis. "

I, too, obeyed her. I stated the case in firm language. Heapologized, he grovelled. It was all a mistake (Mary sniffed); the manhad no such orders (Mary snorted). I could send a cheque at myleisure, and if I would permit him to speak to his henchman all wouldbe well. 

I handed the receiver to a very cowed and surly man, whom Marypersistently addressed as "Major. " As he turned from the telephone, Mary surveyed him with twinkling eyes. 

"Are you going to turn off our electric light, Major?" she said, laughing at him. To my surprise, he laughed with her. Tradespeoplealways did. 

"Not to-day, " he said as amiably as though she had been entertaininghim at tea. Then she let him out, and went back to her dusting. Shelooked at me compassionately. 

"It's the way that dummed company takes to get people to pay theirdeposits promptly, " she said. "But trust Mary Jane Few Clothes to getahead of a little trick like that! My, Missis, isn't it hot!"

I went back to my letter-writing feeling somewhat pensive. It wasclear that we had a competent person in the kitchen, and as for myselfit would not disturb me in the least if she managed me, provided shedealt as peremptorily with the housework as she handled any otherdifficult proposition. But with the Angel? I was not very wellacquainted with my husband myself, and I was slightly exercised as towhether he would bow his neck to Mary's yoke as meekly as I intended todo or not. I seemed to feel intuitively that Mary was a great andgallant general in the domestic field, and my mother's thirty years'war with incompetent servants made me yearn to close my lips ashermetically as an army officer's and blindly obey my general's orderswith an unquestioning confidence that the battle would be won by hergenius. If it were lost, then it would be my turn to interfere andcriticize and show how affairs should have been managed. 

But men, as a rule, have no such intuition, and I wondered about theAngel. How little I knew him!

I was arranging the flowers for the table when the Angel came home. When he had gone back to dress, Mary came up to me and in aconfidential way said:

"Missis, dear, don't tell your father about the electric light tillafter dinner, --excuse me for putting in my two cents, but I always wasnosey!"

"Tell my father?" I repeated. My father was in Washington. 

"Boss! Mr. Jardine!" explained Mary. 

"Why did you call him my father? Surely you must know--"

"Pardon me, dear child. I always call him your father when I'm talkingto myself, because nobody but your father could be as careful of you asthat dear man!"

I sat down to laugh. 

"You don't believe much in husbands, then?" I said. 

"Saving your presence, that I don't. I believe in fathers, and so Ialways call that blessed man your father. Will you believe it, Missis, he wouldn't let me reach up to take the globes off to clean them, norlift the five-gallon water-bottle when it came in full from the grocer. He treats my white hairs as if they were his mother's--God love him!"

I listened to Mary with a dubious mind, divided between admiration ofthe Angel and the intention of telling him not to help her too much, for fear, after the manner of her kind, she should discover a delicacyof constitution which would prevent her from lifting the water-bottleeven when it was empty. 

"And I'll tell you what I've been doing on the quiet for him to showhim that I'm not ungrateful. You know his white waistcoats have beendone up at the laundry so scandalous that I'd not have the face to betaking your money if I were that laundryman, so I've just done themmyself, and would you take a look at them before I carry one back forhim to put on?"

I took a look, and they were of that faultless order of work that makesyou think the millennium has come. 

I took one back to where the Angel stood before the mirror wrestling ina speaking silence with his tie. I had not been married long, but Ihad already learned that there are some moments in a man's life whichare not for speech. He smiled at me in the glass to let me know thathe recognized my presence, and would attend to me later. 

When the tie was made, I drew a long breath. 

"The country is saved once more!" I sighed. 

He laughed. I mean he smiled. Not once a month does he laugh, andalways then at something which I don't think in the least funny. 

As he took the waistcoat from my hand his face lighted up. 

"Now that is something like!" he said. "I tell you it pays to complainonce in awhile. I wrote that laundry a scorcher about thesewaistcoats. "

"It does pay, " I said. Then I explained. 

"Do you know what I think?" he said. "I think we've got a regular oldcast-iron angel in Mary. "

"Oh, rap on wood, " I cried, frantically reaching out with both hands. "Do you want her to spill soup down your neck tonight?"

"I didn't think, " he said, apologetically, groping for wood. "_Now_, do I dare speak?"

"Yes, go on. What do you think of her?"

"I think she is thoroughly competent to deal with the emergencies of aNew York apartment-house. This morning just before I went out I heardher holding a heart-to-heart talk with the grocer. It seems that theeggs come in boxes done up in pink cotton and laid by patent hens thatstamp their owner's name on each egg. For the privilege of eatingthese delicacies we pay the Paris price for eggs. Now it would alsoseem that these hens guarantee at that price to lay and deliver to thepurchaser an unbroken, uncracked, wholly perfect egg in the first flushof its youth. But to-day the careless hens had delivered two crackedeggs out of one unhappy dozen to Mary. With a directness of addressseldom met with in good society, Mary thus delivered herself down thedumb-waiter, 'Well, damn you for a groceryman--'"

"Oh, Aubrey! Did she say that word?"

"She said just that. 'When we are paying a dollar a look at eggs, whatdo you mean by sending me two cracked ones out of twelve? To be sure_somebody_ has been sitting on these eggs, but I'll swear it wasn't ahen. ' His reply was inaudible, but he was just going out to his wagon, and he was opening up his heart to the butcher boy as I passed. 'I'dgive five dollars, poor as I am, ' he said, 'for one look at that oldwoman's face, for she talks for all the world just like my own mother. 'And with that he exchanged the two cracked eggs for two perfect onesout of another order, and took the good ones in to Mary. "

"I wonder if it will last, " I said to a woman who was envying the factthat I could persuade Aubrey to go out with me whenever I wanted him to. 

"It _won't_ last!" she declared, cheerfully. "And it won't last thatMr. Jardine will go calling with you evenings. The clubs will claimhim within six months, and as for Mary--I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll wager you a ten-pound box of candy that within a year you willhave lost both your husband and your cook. "

"Lost my husband, " I cried, my face stiffening. 

"Oh, I only mean as we all lose our husbands, " she explained, airily. "I used to have Jack, but I am married now to golf links and the club. "

"I'll take your bet, " I said. 

"You'll lose, " she laughed. "They are both too perfect to last. "

"They are not!" I cried. 

But when the door closed, I rapped on wood. 

CHAPTER II

THEORIES

If there is anything more delightful than to furnish one's first home, I have yet to discover it. Aubrey says that "moving in goes it onebetter, " but his preference is based on the solid satisfaction he takesin putting in two shelves where one grew before and in providingtowel-racks and closet-hooks wherever there is an inviting wall-spacefor them. 

But to me, even the list I made out and changed and figured on andpriced before I made a single purchase was full of possibilities, andcontained wild flutters of excitement on account of certain innovationsI wished to try. 

"Aubrey, " I said one evening as the Angel sat reading Draper's"Intellectual Development of Europe, " "have you any pet theories?"

"What's that? Pet theories about what?"

"Housekeeping. "

"I don't quite understand. I've never kept house, you know. "

"I mean did your mother keep her house and buy her furniture and manageher servants to suit you, or exactly as you would do if you had been inher place?"

"Not in the least, " said the Angel, laying down his book, all interestat once. 

"Ah! I knew it! Then you _have_ theories! That's what I wanted tobring out. Now I have theories, too. One is the rag-bag theory. "

"The--?"

"The theory that every housewife must have a rag-bag. My mother hadone because her mother did and _her_ mother because _hers_ did, and soon back to the English one who probably brought _her_ rag-bag acrosswith her. Ours was made of bed-ticking, and had a draw-string in itand hung in the bathroom closet. Now if you ever tried to lift a heavybag down from a hook and knew the bother of emptying it of neat littlerolls of every sort of cloth from big rolls of cotton-batting to littlebundles of silk patches and having to look through every one of them tofind a scrap of white taffeta to line a stock, then you know what atrial of temper the family rag-bag is. "

"And you--" said the Angel, who is definite in his conclusions. 

"_I_ mean to have a large drawer in a good light absolutely_sacrificed_, as some people would call it, to the scraps. When youwant a rag or a bone or a hank of hair in our house, all you will haveto do is to pull out an easy sliding drawer without opening a door thatsticks, or crawling into a dark corner, or having to light a candle, ordoing anything to ruffle your temper or your hair. A flood ofbrilliant sunlight or moonlight will pour into my rag-drawer, and a fewpawings of your unoccupied hand will bring everything to the top. Won't that be joyful?"

Aubrey, who loves to fuss about repairs and is for ever wantingmaterial, was so enchanted with the picture I drew that he longed tohave a cut finger to bind up on the spot. 

"Have you any more theories?" he asked, laying Draper on his kneewithout even marking his place. 

"A few. Some are about buying furniture. "

"We want everything good, " said Aubrey, firmly. 

"More than that. We want _some_ things beautiful. And some things_very_ expensive. "

I thought I saw the bank-book give a nervous flop just here. Butperhaps it was only Aubrey's expression of countenance which changed. 

"For instance, I want no chairs for show. Every spot intended to restthe human frame in our house shall bring a sigh of relief from theweary one who sinks into it. I have already started it by the couch Iordered last week for your study. I went to the man who takes ordersand said: 'Have you ever read "Trilby"?' And he said no, but his wifehad when it was the rage about five years ago. I had brought a copy onpurpose, so I read him that paragraph from the first chapter describingthe studio. Here it is: 'An immense divan spread itself in width andlength and delightful thickness just beneath the big north window, thebusiness window--a divan so immense that three well-fed, well-contentedEnglishmen could all lie lazily smoking their pipes on it at once, without being in each other's way, and very often did!' He smiled andsaid it made very agreeable reading, to which I replied that I wantedone made just like it. "

"What did he say?"

"Well, of course he argued. He wanted to make it a normal size. Hewanted to know the size of the doors it would have to go through, and Itold him it was for an apartment. As soon as he knew that he wanted tomake the lower part of cedar to store furs in for the winter. I said:'No, no! This is a luxury. There is to be nothing useful about it. Iwant the whole inside given up to springs!' He said, 'Turkish?' and Isaid yes, and put in two sets of them. At that he began to catch thespirit of the thing and took an interest. We argued so over the sizeof it that finally I told him to send out and measure the elevator andthe door and the room it was to go in and make it just as large asthose spaces would allow. So you'll have a divan ten by six. I wantedit bigger, but I couldn't have got it through any front door. "

"Why, won't it about fill that little room?" asked my husband, with atrace of anxiety in his tone. 

"Only about half-way. There's just room for a little table of books atone end of the divan, and I'm going to have a movable electric lampwith a ground-glass globe and a green shade to be good for the eyes. Your pipe-rack will be on the wall over it. Then by squeezing a littlethere will be just room for my writing-chair, --you know the one withthe desk on the arm and the little drawer for note-paper?"

Aubrey got up and came over to where I had my list, and Draper fell tothe floor unnoticed. 

"I never heard anything sound so comfortable, " he said. The Angel isalways appreciative, and, moreover, is never too absorbed or too tiredto express it fluently. That's one of the things which make it such apleasure to plan his comfort. 

"Doesn't it sound winter evening-y and snowy outside?" I said. 

"I can hear the wind howling, " said the Angel. "What's the next item?"

"Well, now we come to a theory. Of course I have had no moreexperience than you in buying furniture, but it stands to reason thatsome of the things we buy now will be with us at death. Some furniturestays by you like a murder. For instance, a dining-room table. I haveknown some very rich people in my life, Aubrey, but I have seldom seenany who grew rich gradually who had had the moral courage to discard adining-room table if it were even decently good. Have you ever thoughtabout that?"

"I can't say that I have, but it is fraught with possibility. 'TheEthics of Household Furniture' would make good reading. "

"Well, haven't you, " I persisted, "in all seriousness, haven't you seensome very handsome modern dining-rooms marred by a dinner-table toogood to throw away, which you were convinced the family had begunhousekeeping with?"

"Yes, I have!" cried Aubrey. "You are right, I have. I thought youwere jesting at first. "

"Well, I am, sort of half-way. But the sort of dinner-table I want tobuy is no joke. It is one which will grace an apartment or a palace. We can be proud of it even when we are rich. Yet it is not showy, orone which will be too screamingly prominent. It is of carved oak withthe value all in the carving. It costs--" Here I whispered the price, for to us it was almost a crime to think of it. 

The Angel looked sober when my whisper reached him. But he did notcommit himself. I eyed him anxiously. 

"But to make up for that outlay, here is the way I have planned therest of the house. Let's have no drawing-room. "

"No drawing-room? Then where will you receive guests?"

"The room will be there, and people may come into it and sit down, butit will not be familiar ground to strangers. They will find themselvesin a cheerful room with soothing walls and comfortable chairs. Therewill be books and magazines. It will not be a library, for quantitiesof bookcases discourage the frivolous. It will have no gilt chairs, because big men always want to sit in them. It will have no lacecurtains, because I hate them. The piano will be there and most of ourwedding-presents, --all which lend themselves to the decoration of aroom which will look as if people lived in it. "

"If you put bric-à-brac in it people will call it a parlour in spite ofyou, " said the Angel. 

"Not at all. It will have one distinguishing feature which willeffectually prevent the discriminating from making that mistake. Iintend to make the clock on the mantel _go_. That will settle matters. "

"Of course. "

"This room will lack the stiffness of a drawing-room and so inviteconversation, yet will be sufficiently dignified to preventfamiliarity. I shall endeavour to invest it with an invitation whichwill practically say to your college friends, 'You may smoke here, butyou may not throw ashes on the floor. ' Do you see my point?"

The Angel looked thoughtful. 

"I hope it will work, " he said. 

"We can but try it. I am doing this because I wish our friends to meetus together, and I don't approve of this separating men and women, --thewomen remaining alone to gossip while the men go away to smoke. It istoo narrowing on us and too broadening on you. "

"I like it, --in theory, --but some men are chimneys. They don't knowhow to smoke when ladies are present. "

"They will soon learn!" I declared, stoutly. "I shall be so attentiveto their comfort, so ready with an ash-tray, so eager to offer them thelast cigar in the jar (if I think they have smoked enough) that theywill notice my slightest cough. "

Aubrey waxed enthusiastic. 

"An evening spent in that room will be 'An Education in PoliteSmoking, ' won't it?"

"And, " I went on, "then when we are rich and want a truly handsomedrawingroom we can furnish it in pink silk and cupids with a lightheart, for behold, we will simply move all this comfort I havedescribed into a library, and the wear on the furniture will redeem itfrom newness and give it the proper air of age and use. There isnothing more vulgar to my mind than a perfectly new library. Itlooks--well, you know!"

"It does, " said the Angel, with conviction. "All of that!"

We discussed these theories in detail, made many corrections, andfinally went down to buy. But a handsome shop and money in my pocketalways excite me so that what little common sense I was born withinstantly departs, and I buy feverishly, mostly things I do not wantand could not use. So the Angel adopted a good, safe rule. When hesaw my eyes begin to glitter with a "I-must-have-that-or-die"expression, he used to take me by the arm and say:

"Now shut your eyes, and I'll get you past this counter. "

I have heard of many curious women who do not enjoy housekeeping. I amfree to confess that I do not understand why, unless they started outin life with the conceited idea that to bend their wonderful brainsupon the silly problem of keeping a house clean and ordering dinnerswas beneath women of their possibilities on club essays. I oftenwonder if they attacked the proposition of housekeeping with theintention of seeing how much fun there is in it, of how much pleasurecould be got out of making a home, not merely keeping house, and offeeding their conceit with the fuel of a determination to keep housebetter than any woman of their acquaintance. The simple butfascinating problem of how to make each room a little prettier than itwas last week, would keep even an ingenious woman busy and interestedin something worth while, and those of us who are sensitive toimpressions would be spared the truly awful sight of certainincongruous rooms in handsome houses. Oh, if you only knew what peoplesay about you--you women who "don't like to keep house!"

But I forgot. Most women have no sense of humour, and few husbandstake the intense interest in a home that the Angel does. 

America, foreigners claim, is a country almost as homeless as France issaid to be. The French have no word for home in their language, butthey have homes in fact, which is much more worth while. We Americanshave the lovely word "Home, " but we haven't as a nation the article infact. Americans have houses, but in truth we are a homeless race. Only the unenlightened will contradict me for saying that, and for theopinion of the unenlightened I do not care. 

I am not sentimental after the fashion of women who send flowers tomurderers, but I am full of pale and sickly theories as to the makingof a home, and I am free to confess that it would give me more pleasureto hear people say of me, "Mrs. Jardine's husband is the happiest man Iknow, " than to have them read on a bronze tablet under a statue in theLouvre, "Faith Jardine, Sculptor. " For if more ambitious women woulddevote themselves to making one neglected husband happy the publicwould be spared weak and indifferent pictures, silly and rank books, rainy-day skirts in the house, and heaps of other foolishness and badtaste, most of which at bottom is not the necessity to work for aliving, but simply Feminine Conceit. 

Of course Aubrey and I made some mistakes in spite of all ourprecautions, for, happily for me, the Angel can be led away byenthusiasm, and is not so faultlessly perfect as to be impossible toget on with. I revel in his weaknesses, they are so human andcompanionable, and give me such a feeling of satisfaction when summingup my own faults. We got so much fun out of shopping for the housethat we dragged out the process to make the delight of it as lingeringas possible. I had planned it all out. 

My own room was to be pink. Big pink roses splashed all over thecretonne counterpane and valance of the bed. Plain pink wall-paperupon which to hang pictures all in black frames. Small pink rosestumbling on the ceiling and looking as if every moment they wouldscatter their curling petals on the pink rugs on the floor. The darkfurniture against the pink walls toned down the rose colour, whichreturned the compliment to the furniture by bringing out the carving onbold relief. 

The guest-room, on the contrary, was to be pale blue with whitefurniture. Nothing but gold-framed pictures on the walls and a bluerug on the floor. The chairs were to be upholstered in blue for thisroom, and in pink for mine. Muslin curtains with full deep ruffles, picked out respectively with pink and blue, would flutter at the sunnywindows, and though simplicity itself, nothing ever struck me as anymore attractive, for it was all mine--my first house--my firsthousekeeping! When this dream really came true, I walked around insuch a dazed condition of delight that I was black and blue fromknocking myself into things I didn't see. But even as I did not seethe obstructions, I did not feel the pain of my bruises, for they wereall got from my furniture on corners of _my_ house, and thus weresacred. 

As I gazed on the delicate beauty of my pretty little guest-chamber Ifell to wondering who would be its first occupant. Would it be a manor a woman? Would it be Artie Beguelin, the Angel's best man, or mysweet friend and bridesmaid, Cary Farquhar?

At any rate, he or she would be welcome--oh, so welcome! I hoped theinvisible guest would be happy, and would feel that ours was not acompulsory hospitality, with the cost counted beforehand and thebenefits we expected in return discounted. No, whoever it was to bewould be a guest and a friend. On the wall over the bed hung thesewords illuminated on vellum and framed, for I had always loved them:

 "Sleep sweet, within this quiet room, Oh thou, whoe'er thou art! And let no mournful yesterday Disturb thy peaceful heart, Nor let to-morrow fret thy dreams With thoughts of coming ill, Thy Maker is thy changeless Friend, His love surrounds thee still. Sleep sweet! Good night. "

Afterward, when my first guest had come and gone, this momentaryreverie came back to me, and I looked up at this benediction with tearsin my eyes. 

Of course we spent too much money on our house furnishings. We alwaysdo, but after all--and here come my theories again. I would have finetable and bed linen. The Angel did not believe I would stick to it, but I did embroider it all myself. And as to hemming napkins andtable-cloths--I challenge any nun in any convent to make prettierFrench hems than I put in! Would I be likely to waste all that labouron flimsy napkins or cotton sheets and pillow-cases?

Not at all! I can find infinitely more pleasure in putting invisiblestitches into my own first linen than in going to pink teas, and peopledon't get permanently angry if you invite them to dinner, and let themeat off hemmed and embroidered damask. Believe me. You may send cardsto six receptions, and get out of six afternoons of misery andindigestion by one judiciously arranged dinner--if you don't mix yourpeople. And thus we did. 

So I got my linen. The Angel laughed at another of my theories, butwhen I proved to him that I would really see the thing through, he wasconvinced. It was on the question of beds. Our friends professedthemselves astonished that we contemplated the extravagance of aguest-chamber, for here in New York, where rents are so abnormal, people economize first of all upon their friends, and I am told that anextra bedroom where a chance guest may be asked to remain overnight isthe exception with people of moderate means. Such monstrousselfishness struck me as appalling. To provide _only_ forourselves--for our own comfort! To have no room in all your own luxuryto share with a friend! To be obliged to tell the woman whosehospitality you have enjoyed in your girlhood: "Now that I am married, I have prepared no place for you! Your kindness to me is allforgotten!"

Well, we simply refused. What if it were a strain on us financially?I would rather suffer that than cripple myself spiritually and sufferfrom no pangs of conscience as most New Yorkers do!

However, we managed it, and in this wise. I said:

"Aubrey, if you are willing, we can save a great deal in this way. "

Even at this early stage the Angel always grew deeply attentive when Italked of saving anything. 

"We can and must order the finest springs and mattresses for the beds, for of all the meanness in this world the meanest is to put a bad bedin the guest-chamber, and that is where most housekeepers are perfectlywilling to economize. But we can and will buy white iron beds withbrass trimmings for almost nothing, --they are all the same size as thefine brass ones, --so that at any time when we find ourselves vulgarlyrich and able to live up to the dinner-table we shall feel perfectlyjustified in discarding them, and there you are!"

"But how will it look?" said the man. 

"How will our bank-account look, if we don't?"

"I know. But I thought women were afraid of what other women wouldsay, " said the Angel. 

"Now, Aubrey, " I said, "If we have economized on ourselves, or ratherincluded ourselves in a general scheme of economy in order the betterto provide for our guests, I think even New Yorkers would hesitate tocriticize the Jardines' iron beds, --especially if they ever got achance to disport themselves on the Jardines' Turkish springs!"

"There's something in that, " said the Angel. 

CHAPTER III

ON THE SUBJECT OF JANITORS

I used to pride myself on being practical and on possessing no smalldegree of that peculiar brand of sense known as "horse. " However, likemost women inclined to take a rosy view of their virtues and to passlightly over their obvious faults, I know now that I prided myself onthe one thing in my make-up conspicuous by its absence. For I amluxurious to a degree, and so fond of beauty and grace that I feel withthe man who said, "Give me the luxuries of life and I will do withoutthe necessities. "

This explanation is due to any man, woman, or child who has ever livedin a New York apartment, and who is moved to follow the fortunes of theJardines further. Also this conversation took place before some of theevents already narrated transpired, and while we were still at theWaldorf. 

"Now, Aubrey, " I said, "to begin at the beginning, marriage is supposedto perfect existence all around, isn't it?"

"It does, " said Aubrey. 

"No, now, I am speaking seriously. It has fed the mental and spiritualside of us, why not begin life with the determination to make it oilthe wheels of daily existence? Why not bend our energies to avoidingthe pitfalls of the ordinary mortal, and let _us_ lead a perfect life. "

"Very well, " said the Angel. 

"Now in permitting housekeeping to conquer, most people become slavesto the small ills of life, which I wish to avoid. "

"Get to the point, " said Aubrey, encouragingly, fearing, I suppose, that if he did not give the conversation a fillip, I might go on inthat strain for ever, which would be wearing. 

"Well, the point is this. I've never known what it was to have goodservice in a private house, except abroad. Now even when people bringexcellent servants over from London and Paris, they go all to pieces ina year. It's in the air of America. "

"Well?" said Aubrey. 

"Well, of course we have perfect service here in this hotel, and itseems to me that the nearest approach to that would be in one of thosesmart apartment-houses, where everything is done for you outside ofyour four walls. Then with Mary, who seems to be a delightfulcreature, all we need do is to be careful in the selection of ajanitor. Do you follow me?"

"You have not finished, " said Solomon. 

"Quite true, oh, wise man of the East! Another of the trials of mylife has always been to get letters mailed. "

"To get letters _mailed_?" said Aubrey. 

"To get letters mailed, " I repeated, firmly. "Every woman knows thatit is no trouble to write them, but the problem of leaving them on thehall-table for the first person who goes out to mail, the lingeringfear when one doesn't hear promptly that the letter was lost or neverwent; the danger of somebody covering them up with papers and sweepingthem off to be burned; the impossibility of running to the box witheach one; the impoliteness of refusing the friend who offers to mailthem permission even to touch them, --oh, Aubrey, really, the chiefworry of my whole life has been to get letters mailed!"

"The most expensive apartment we looked at had a mail-chute, " said myhusband, thoughtfully, after a moment of silence. 

"Well, " I hazarded, timidly, "the only difference between a flat and anapartment is in the rent. "

"That apartment had an ice-box and a sideboard built in, and a mailchute, " repeated Aubrey. 

"Yes, it did, as well as the most respectful janitor I ever saw. Didyou notice him?"

"Was he the one who was cross-eyed?"

"Well, yes, I think his eyes weren't quite straight. But that may havebeen one reason why he was so gentle and deferential. I have oftennoticed that persons who are afflicted in some painful way are oftenthe very kindest and best, as if the spiritual had developed at theexpense of the physical. "

"Well, Faith, if your heart is set on that one we must have it. "

"I know the rent is exorbitant, but I intend to get all of my amusementand recreation out of my home, so count balls and receptions andfunctions out--or rather count them in the rent, " I said, "for insteadof going to the theatre as we have been doing, I want to give littledinners--real dinners to people we love, and give them with a view tothe enjoyment of our guests rather than that of ourselves. I want tomake a fine art of the selection of guests in their relation to eachother. "

"I'd like nothing better, " declared Aubrey, "but don't you know thatyou won't be called upon to do much of that sort of thing the firstwinter, for everybody we know will be entertaining us. "

"There's one other point I'd like to explain, " I said. "And that isthat I shall never entertain anybody whom I simply 'feel called upon'to entertain, nor, if I like people, shall I count favours with them. I shall conform to conventionality simply as a matter of dignity. Itis the privilege of your friends to make the first advances to mebecause I am a stranger to most of them. But I want to make a practiceof hospitality for my own sake. I want to see if the open house wekept in the South cannot be accomplished in New York. I never, for thegood of my own soul, want to grow as cold and calculating as someso-called hospitable women whom I have met in the North. "

Aubrey looked at me comprehendingly. 

"I know, " I said, smiling, "that it sounds to a hardened New Yorkerlike yourself about like the interview of a young actress who declaresthat she intends to elevate the stage. But in my case, I am in theposition of one who doesn't want the stage to lower her. I don't wantto grow cold, Aubrey, and I hope never to allow a friend to leave myhouse at meal-time without at least an invitation to remain and make, if necessary, a convenience of us. What are friends for, I should liketo know?"

"From the position you have just stated I should think your definitionof a friend would be 'a man or woman who can be imposed upon withimpunity. '"

"Let them impose upon me if they want to, " I declared, stoutly. "Aslong as I have respectful service, I will let those I love make adoor-mat of me!"

"A slightly volcanic door-mat, I should say, " observed the Angel. "Youwould allow yourself to be stamped upon just about as humbly as acharge of dynamite, and the remonstrance in both cases would besimilar. "

I could not help remembering this conversation after we had moved inand we had been settled by the efforts of the family of the cross-eyedjanitor. 

I never enjoyed anything in my life as I enjoyed moving into our firsthome. It was on the top floor, overlooking the park from the frontwindows, while the back gave upon a stretch of neat little flowergardens with the Hudson shining like a narrow silver ribbon between usand the undulating Jersey shore. 

Every room was light. Every room opened on the street, and thesunlight came pouring in quite as if it did not know that in mostapartments the sun is an unexpected luxury. There were parquet floorsthroughout, and the bathroom was white marble, all except a narrowfrieze of cool pale green. The woodwork was daintily carved, thedining-room was panelled in oak with two handsome china-closets builtin. We had eleven closets with an extra storeroom for trunks in thebasement, and enough cabinets in the kitchen and butler's pantry tostock a hotel, and as a crowning glory the front door did not openopposite the bathroom or kitchen as is the case in most apartments, butwas near the front like the home of a Christian, and the dining-roomgave into the front room with a largeness of vista which made us feellike millionaires. 

Does this read like a fairy-tale?

As we surveyed our domain, I felt such a flood of gratitude and prideof home sweep over my soul that I said to Aubrey:

"I actually feel like praying. "

The Angel smiled an inscrutable smile, the exact meaning of which I didnot catch, but it was not one of derision. Rather I should say that ithad in it a waiting quality, as of a knowing one who intended to givethanks after he had tested a meal, instead of a reckless wight who infaith called down a blessing on a napkin and salt-cellars. But mygratitude was largely "a lively appreciation of favours to come. "

I have no tale of woe to relate of things which did not come in time. Our purchases promised for a certain day arrived as scheduled, wereuncrated on the sidewalk, with Aubrey and me hanging out of the sixthfloor window to watch them. The gentle-mannered janitor and his buxomdaughter were cleaning the last of the windows, and such was the geniusof fortune and Mary that at three that same afternoon, when the bestman called to see how we were getting on, there was nothing left to dobut to hang pictures, so we set him to doing that while we sat aroundin languid delight and bossed the job. But it was thirsty work, andthe best man rested often. Such perfection of planning seemed toirritate him, although he is by nature a gentle soul, for he said, "Imust say you have done well, but I'll bet there is one thing you haveforgotten. "

"Not at all, " said Aubrey, who was at college with the best man. "There are six siphons on the ice now, and six more under the kitchensink. The corkscrew is on the mantel. "

All the pictures were hung before dinner. That is, they were hung forthe first time. The pictures in our apartment have travelled. One byone they have journeyed from the smoking-room down the long hall, stopping a day or two in each room, and all finding a resting-placeexcept one, which will not look well in any colour, any spot, on anywall, nor in any light. It was a wedding-present from some one welike, or Aubrey would have put his foot through it long ago. As it is, it is under the blue room bed, whence we drag it every once in awhileto admire the frame and say, "I wonder if it wouldn't go there. "

As long as that picture remains unhung, a vacant wall space in anyhouse is full of interest and possibility to us, and if we ever move, we shall select a spot for that picture first, and consider the rentand plumbing second. 

The janitor's manners continued perfect. Even Mary found no fault withhim, and as my appreciation for anything is plainly evident in mymanner, both Mary and the janitor felt that in me they had found afriend, and they waxed confidential withal. 

One day he came up to clean windows, and when he mentioned the"parlour, " I said:

"Don't call this room a parlour. I have neither parlour nordrawing-room. This small room is a smoking-room, and this other is alibrary. I wanted Mr. Jardine to feel at liberty to smoke all over thehouse. "

The janitor looked about him and noticed the lack of gilt chairs andlace curtains. 

"Will you excuse an old man for speaking, Mrs. Jardine, and not thinkme impertinent if I make free to say that if more young ladies startedhousekeeping with such ideas, homes would be happier. I make bold tosay that you will not have trouble in keeping Mr. Jardine at homeevenings. "

I blushed with pleasure at having won the approval of this gentle soul. But when I told Aubrey he said:

"Poor old fellow! I saw his wife to-day. She weighs well on to fourhundred, and has the air of an anarchist queen. She was engaged inreducing the agent to his proper level, and _I_ fled. "

Evidently the agent conquered, for, alas! within a week we had a newjanitor, --the opposite of my friend in every respect. Harris, the newjanitor, was young, sprightly, self-confident, and an American of thetype "I'm just as good as you are. " This challenge lay so plainly inhis eye that almost involuntarily I said, "I know you are, " before Itold him that the elevator squeaked. 

I hated him from the moment I saw him, but I gave him an extra largefee to bribe, in the cowardly manner of all citizens of the land of thefree and the home of the brave, a servant to do pleasantly the dutieshe is otherwise paid to do. He had three little children, and when oneof them had a birthday I sent them ice-cream and a birthday cake. Whenhis wife fell ill I sent her my own doctor, for her little pale, pinched, three-cornered face appealed to me. She did all the janitor'swork. It was her voice at the dumb-waiter instead of his, and onceAubrey found her emptying a garbage can nearly as large as she was, when he went down to see why Harris didn't answer our bell. Aubreyfound Harris asleep. 

We discovered these things by degrees, and gradually I came to feelthat my mail-chute was the only real, continuous luxury we had gainedwith this awful rent. Still we avoided discussing the matter. Byignoring it, we could keep ourselves deceived a little longer to thefact that we were being robbed by our own foolishness. 

One day I invited the dearest old lady, over ninety years old, toluncheon. Her daughter was to bring her in her carriage, and I madeAubrey promise to be in the house by eleven o'clock in case she neededassistance, and I prepared to have a beautiful day. For weeks we hadplanned for this festival, for it was Mrs. Scofield's ninety-firstbirthday and would probably be her only outing during the winter. Atten o'clock I had word that she felt well enough to come, so I toldAubrey to bring over the ninety-one roses he had ordered in honour ofher birthday. 

He came in looking a florist shop. We arranged them, and waited andwaited and waited. At two o'clock, the most disappointed of mortals, we sat down to luncheon. 

"I am afraid something has happened, " I said, and the anxiety anddisappointment threw me into such a headache that I spent the afternoonin a darkened room, and had tea and toast sent in for my dinner. 

About eight o'clock Aubrey persuaded me to go out for a little walk, sowe started. We had no sooner got outside our door than we began tofeel impending calamity in the air. The elevator was not running. There was a paper saying so fastened to the bell. We walked down fiveflights of stairs, occasionally looking at each other ominously. Myheadache vanished as if by magic. I felt strong and murderous. 

On the table in the hall lay a dozen letters, which had arrived duringthe day, a telegram from Uncle John, asking us to dine at the Waldorfand share their box to see Irving and Terry and to sup with them atSherry's that night. It was then a quarter to nine. We were notdressed, and we were half an hour from the theatre. There was also anote from Mrs. Scofield's daughter saying that they had come athalf-past twelve, but found no hall-boy, no janitor, and the elevatornot running, so, after vainly trying to communicate with us, they hadbeen obliged to go home again. 

I simply wept with rage and mortification. Aubrey started for thebasement with me at his heels. I felt that the Angel could not copealone with such a situation. We found Mrs. Harris pale, trembling, andapologetic. She said her husband was not there. 

Aubrey turned away breathing vengeance. 

"Aubrey, " I said, firmly, "Harris is in that room. "

"No, no, Mrs. Jardine! Indeed he is not!" insisted the little woman. 

"I am sorry for you, Mrs. Harris, " I said, "but you must allow me tosee for myself. " And with that I made as if to pass her, but Aubreyheld me back. 

"I'll go, " he said. 

He went and found Harris calmly reading the newspaper, with his feet onthe mantel. 

"Why isn't the elevator running?" demanded Aubrey. 

"Because the hall-boy left this morning, and there was nobody to runit, " said the man, impudently keeping his seat, with his hat on, andnot even putting his feet on the floor. 

"Is it broken?" asked my husband. 

"It is not. I turned the power off, that's all. "

"Why didn't you run it yourself?" asked Aubrey. 

"It isn't my business. That's why, young feller. Now you know, don'tyou!"

"Don't you dare speak to my husband in that manner, " I broke in. Aubrey shook his head at me. It was cruel of him, for I do love afight. 

"You come out this minute and start that elevator, " said Aubrey. 

"I'll do nothing of the sort. You'll walk up those five nights ofstairs this night, " said the janitor. Oh, how I wished I had that feeback!

Mrs. Harris plucked imploringly at my skirt. 

"Harris, aren't you ashamed of yourself?" I said. "Look at your poorwife just out of bed, and you have lost this good place by this day'swork. You and your family will not know where to lay your heads withina week. "

"And how do you know that? I'll keep this place as long as I please. _I_ stand in with the agent. I suppose you think because you've beengood to the children that you can run me, but let me tell you thatyou've not done half that you should! So you just shut up and go backwhere you belong. "

Aubrey made a leap for him, but Mrs. Harris threw herself between themand I fastened myself to Aubrey's coat-tails. This was more than I hadbargained for. 

"No, Aubrey, come. Let us once for all declare our independence. Forsome time I have suspected that there was collusion between janitorsand agents. Now let's get to the bottom of it. "

By holding out such a prospect to him, I got the Angel up-stairs, wherewe poured forth our souls in a letter to the agent. 

He called, listened to us with polite incredulity, and said he wouldhear Harris's side, as if he wished to judge impartially between twocriminals. 

We held on to ourselves while he consulted the gentleman below stairs. When he came back he said:

"Harris denies everything. Now who am I to believe?"

For once the Angel rose to the occasion. 

"Mr. Jepson, you may believe whom you please if you have no moredecency than to put the word of a gentleman against that of a drunkenservant. You have violated the terms of our lease, and unless Harrisis dismissed inside of a week our apartment is at your disposal. "

"Very well, Mr. Jardine, " said Jepson, "if you insist on our dismissinga janitor for his first offence without even giving him a secondchance, then there is nothing to do but to agree to your demand. "

Aubrey bowed in a truly haughty manner. The Angel!

"I so insist, " he said. The agent left us. 

"Aubrey, " I said, thoughtfully, "we have gained a gallant victory overthe janitor, but I fear the battle with the agent will be the bloodiestof our campaign. "

But we looked forward hopefully. Like all man-eating monsters, havingonce tasted human blood, we thirsted for more. 

CHAPTER IV

THE ANGEL AND THE AGENT

At the risk of causing the gentle reader to despise us, I feel in dutybound to set forth the joys and sorrows of our first housekeeping aboutas they occurred. By that I mean that I intend to take the keen edgefrom our griefs for kindness' sake and to illuminate our joys a littlebeyond the stern realities as we found them, in order to permit thereader to understand the colour of the Paradise that the Angel and Ifound in each other. If, therefore, I do not burst into tears at themoment when any well-regulated woman would, lay it, O gentle reader, atthe door of the Angel, whose deep-seeing understanding not only couldcomprehend such a grief as that of parting with my dog, but which alsowas capable of sympathizing with suitable violence over a gown which didnot fit or the polite malice of an afternoon visitor. 

If I add that when I went into a fury over nothing at all the Angel neverattempted to stop me or to pooh-pooh the cause, but permitted me tomangle the whole subject until it lay a disorganized, dismembered, whollyunrecognizable mass at my triumphant feet, I feel reasonably sure that Ishall have proved to every woman his right to his title. 

The knowing ones will naturally scorn the method of reasoning by which wearrived at conclusions, but I have found that nothing is more divertingor delightful than to go blundering into absurd predicaments, mentallyhand in hand, for the Angel never says "I told you so. " That sting beingremoved and all three in this happy family, Mary, the Angel, and I, allbeing rather handsomely endowed with a sense of humour, it is a constantsource of enjoyment to look back and consider the virulence and contagionof our ignorance and to count the bruises by which we became wise. 

One evening at ten o'clock we came in from making a call and found theelevator-boy in his shirt-sleeves washing the hall floor. I asked him ifit wasn't a little early to be doing such a thing, as people were stillgoing and coming, and he said he was acting under Mr. Jepson's orders. Jepson was the agent. 

We said we would remonstrate, and we wrote a letter to Jepson asking himto have the hall cleaned after twelve o'clock at night and before sixo'clock in the morning. He wrote back that, after consulting theconvenience of all the people in the house, he had decided on eight inthe morning and ten at night, as everybody was at breakfast at the firsthour and that ten was the freest hour for the halls at night. He addedthat the gentleman on the first floor went fishing at six every morning, and had complained of having the halls washed at that hour, as he wasinconvenienced thereby. 

A few days later we met Jepson on the street, and Aubrey stopped him andsaid:

"There are several matters about the house I wish you would look into, Mr. Jepson. "

"Now look here, Mr. Jardine, if you expect me to run that wholeapartment-house to suit you, you are going to be mistaken. "

"For whose comfort and convenience is it run?" I broke in before Aubreycould stop me. 

"For mine, madam! I arrange everything outside of your four walls. "

"Then we have no rights as to entrance, elevator, and our upper hall?"asked Aubrey. 

"None, sir!"

I pulled the Angel away. 

"Now, Aubrey, " I said, "_I_ have had an apartment in Paris, and I knowwhat the power of the concierge is. But if you think for one minute thatI am going to submit to such impertinence here in America, you never weremore mistaken in your life. "

"What do you intend to do?" asked my husband, with the very natural andperfectly excusable interest a man takes when he sees his wife donningher war-paint. 

"The trouble with me is that I am too agreeable, " I went on, firmly. TheAngel never flinched even at that statement. "I am too polite. We askfor our rights as if we were requesting favours. "

"Is it our right to say when the halls shall be cleaned?" asked Aubrey. 

"Well, I leave it to you as a business man. There is a difference ofeight hundred dollars a year in the rent between the first floor andours. If we pay the highest rent shouldn't our wishes be consideredfirst?"

"Eight hundred dollars' worth first!" agreed Aubrey. 

"Well, now I'll tell you what I think we would better do, and see if youdon't agree with me. To tell the truth, I am getting a little sick ofthe tyranny of agents and janitors, and I propose to see if by making afirm stand we cannot establish a precedent for the rights of tenants. "

"Don't go to law, " said Aubrey, "for every law in New York State seems tofavour agents and janitors. I've conducted too many cases not to know. "

"We won't go to law. We will use common sense. It vexes me to heareverybody telling what abuses they stand in New York apartments, and notone of them has the courage to make a fight for liberty. An Englishmanwouldn't stand it for one minute, but we Americans are cowards about'scenes' and 'fusses' and such things, and year by year our rights arepassing from our hands into the hands of foreigners and the lowerclasses, who already rule us because they don't mind a fight. "

"True, " said Aubrey. 

Much flattered by his approval, I proceeded more calmly. It always putsme in a heavenly temper not to be opposed. 

"Now we will give this Jepson person one more chance. If he abuses hisauthority or tramples on even the fringe of our rights, we will revolt. "

"Good!" cried Aubrey, perfectly willing to become enthusiastic over anencounter not in the immediate future. But his peaceful disposition onceroused, and my inflammable nature crawls into the darkest corner underthe bed to escape the sight of the consequences. 

It came to be the first week in October without anything more irritatinghappening than that all our protests had been disregarded, and we pickedour way through sloppy halls and dismissed our guests with forced jestsabout bathing suits being furnished by the agent for them to reach thestreet door in safety, and all such things, keeping up a proud front, butsecretly mortified almost to death, for anybody would know from ourlocation that we were paying a high rent, and then to think--

However--

On this early October morning we found frost on the windows, and, although we had no thermometer, we knew that we were cold. We hurriedout into the dining-room and lighted the gas-logs. They were new, andinside of five minutes we had every window in the house open andhandkerchiefs to our noses. We said we would stand it and burn the newoff, but we have lived here two years and the new is still on. So thenwe said we must have heat. This was before Janitor Harris left, soAubrey, after ringing in vain for half an hour, went down and told him tomake a fire in the furnaces. Harris said we were to have no heat untilthe fifteenth of November. It was a rule of all apartment-houses. Aubrey said, "Nonsense!" But when he came up-stairs Mary confirmed thejanitor. She said it was a rule in New York. 

We said nothing, but we felt that this was the time for our declarationof independence. 

First we bought thermometers for every room. 

Then Aubrey looked up the law. 

In all the bedrooms the mercury stayed at forty-nine until noon, then itgot to fifty-one. At seven that night it dropped to forty-five, and inthe morning all the windows were frosted again. 

Aubrey's law partner was extremely interested in all our plans, for healso lived in an apartment and wanted heat, but knew better than to askfor it. Our lease was so worded that we were to have "heat whennecessary. " Our rights hung upon when the agent, who was five milesaway, or the owner, who was in Florida, should agree upon how cold wewere to be allowed to grow before thawing us out. Then, carefullyplanning the campaign, Aubrey wrote letters and had interviews with theagent, in which he committed himself in the presence of witnesses and onpaper until, on the afternoon of the third day of our cold storage, Aubrey wrote to the agent saying that if we did not have heat withintwenty-four hours, we should go to a hotel and stay until they chose togive it to us, and take it out of the rent. This letter evidentlytickled one of the clerks in the agent's office to such an extent that hecalled Aubrey up by telephone and said he had done the only thingpossible under the circumstances to bring the company to book. Thisapproval pleased Aubrey, and he asked the man's name. It was Brooks. 

We all felt that Brooks was a gentleman. 

"They will _never_ let us do _that_, Aubrey, " I said. 

"They will think we are bluffing!" said the Angel, with quiet conviction. 

"Bluffing!" I cried. "Do they think we won't go if they don't give usheat?"

"They little know _you_, do they?" said Aubrey, patting the sleeve of mysealskin, for I wore it all day now. I put it on when I got up. 

We waited the twenty-four hours, and then as no notice had been taken ofour letter we calmly packed a handbag, bade Mary good-bye, --she had thegas range to keep warm by, --and much to her delight we went down to theWaldorf. But not to our old luxurious quarters. We took a room and abath at five dollars a day. We were doing this from stern principle, andwe wanted a reasonable case. 

I have never flattered myself privately that I am a particularlyagreeable woman, but I can truthfully say that we were extremely popularat the Waldorf, for in some manner it had leaked out that we were makinga test case on the "heat before the 15th, " and everybody we knew wholived in apartments called to see if we were really there, and some whodidn't know us sent word to us or walked by to look at us, as if we wereperforming animals. The name of Jardine was paged through the corridorsand billiard-room and cafe until we had a personal acquaintance withevery menial in the hotel. It cost us a good deal to get away, Iremember. 

All these first-mentioned nice persons encouraged us, and slapped Aubreyon the back and called him "old chap, " much to his annoyance (for theAngel hates familiarity from chance acquaintances), and said we weredoing the right thing and God-blessed-us and wanted us to promise to letthem know how we came out. 

We said nothing, but we could see that not one among them all butexpected either a lawsuit or that we would be obliged to back down andpay for this foolhardy defiance of the despot out of our own pockets. 

Each day we went out to the apartment and examined the thermometers andtook signed statements as to the degree they registered. We had notifiedthe agent that we would not return until it was sixty-eight Fahrenheit inthe bedrooms. 

On the afternoon of the third day the weather had moderated to such anextent that it was sixty-eight, so I stayed while Aubrey went down to theWaldorf for the bill and our bag. On his return he proudly exhibited areceipted bill for $27. 

As no reply had been received to our letter and no one had been sent tosee us, we felt a truly justifiable pride in the little surprise we hadfor Jepson when on the first of November the Angel sent a cheque forNovember rent, less $27, together with the now famous receipted bill. 

If we felt that we had been ignored by our agent hitherto, we had nocause for complaint after the receipt of that bill and cheque. In fact, as I told Aubrey, Jepson did not have time to use a paper-knife on theenvelope, --he must have torn it open with feverish fingers, --for thetelephone-bell jingled madly before breakfast when the office "wanted toknow the meaning of this, " and when the Angel rang off without any reply, poor old Jepson came up to the apartment out of breath. 

We got plenty of attention after _that_!

Jepson was at first quite confident--even patronizing. 

"Why, don't you know, Mr. Jardine, we can't allow any such absurd thingas this to go on--not for a minute. "

"Ah, " said Aubrey. "What do you propose to do about it?"

"I propose to leave this--this--er--bill and cheque with you and collectthe full amount of the rent. "

"I don't envy you the process, " said my husband. 

"Oh, well, I imagine there will be no trouble about it. We know ourrights. "

"Has it ever occurred to you that we might know ours?" said Aubrey. 

"Yes, certainly. But you know, Mr. Jardine, we are agents for a largenumber of the best apartment-houses in New York, and we have not givenheat to any one so far. "

"I only live in this one, " said Aubrey. "It does not interest me in theleast what temperature other of your tenants prefer. I shall have thisapartment warm when _I_ think it is cold. "

"Well, but--I understand how you feel, but--no one ever did such a thingas this before in the whole course of my thirty-five years' experience. "

"I can quite believe it, " said Aubrey, thinking of the people we knew whosuffered without a protest. 

"Then you can imagine my surprise this morning to receive this, " saidJepson. 

"I can quite imagine it, " returned my husband, with an irony wasted onJepson, but delightful to me. 

"Well, " said our visitor, rising, "I hope you will think better of it andsend me a cheque for the full amount. It will save unpleasantness. "

"I anticipate unpleasantness from my past experience with you, " said theAngel, "and that is every cent you will get from me for November rent. "

"Then we shall sue you, Mr. Jardine. Doubtless you would be embarrassedto be sued for twenty-seven dollars. "

"It wouldn't embarrass me to be sued for twenty-seven cents, " saidAubrey, cheerfully, for he always expands in good nature when the otherman shows signs of temper. 

"Do you expect us to sue?" asked the astonished agent. 

"Here is my defence, " said Aubrey, pleasantly, drawing a bundle of lawpapers from his pocket. "My partner and I have been at work on this casefor a fortnight. "

Jepson sat down again suddenly and unwound his neck-scarf. The Angeldoes look gentle. 

"I didn't think--" he began and stopped, but Aubrey helped him out. 

"You didn't think several things, Mr. Jepson. You didn't think I meantit when I said I must have heat. You didn't think I meant it when Iwrote you that I would go to a hotel if you didn't give it to me. Youdidn't think I would resent your paying no attention to our requestsabout cleaning the halls. You didn't think I intended to live in thisapartment to suit my own comfort and convenience and not yours. Youdidn't think I could force you to live up to the terms of our lease, which says 'heat when necessary. ' But I intend to give you anopportunity right now to change your mind about several things. "

Jepson dropped his hat on the floor and fumbled for it. 

"I'll take the matter up with the president of our company, " he said. 

"Do, " said Aubrey, cordially. 

The next morning while Aubrey was down-town the president of the realestate company called. 

"Now, Mrs. Jardine, " he said, "I just thought I would drop in while yourhusband was away to discuss this little difficulty in a friendly way andsee if you and I couldn't come to some arrangement by which both partieswill be satisfied. "

"Yes?" I said. 

"You see, Mrs. Jardine, you as a lady will realize that your husband tooka very high-handed way, --in fact, I may say it was the most high-handedproceeding I have ever heard of in all my business career. "

"Yes? I suppose it must have astonished you as much as it amazed us todiscover that we were to be heated by date instead of by temperature. "

"Er--er well! Of course, you didn't know, but you must understand thatthat rule obtains among all agents in New York. "

"So we heard, " I said, indifferently. 

"You know that?"

"Oh, certainly. "

"Did you know what method Mr. Jardine was about to pursue to force us toheat your apartment before any one else asked for heat?"

"I suggested it to him, " I said, gently. 

"You sug--Well, of course. Hum! I see. "

"And as for none of the other tenants wanting heat, every family in thehouse asked for it. The lady on the third floor has a five-weeks-oldbaby, and, as you know, there are no gas-logs in any of the bedrooms. "

"Well, " said the president, rising, "I must look into this. I will takethe matter up with the owners. "

"Good morning, " I said. "I will tell Mr. Jardine that you called. "

"Yes, do, " he said, hurriedly putting on his hat, and then taking it offagain. "Good morning. Mr. Jardine will hear from me. "

"I hope so, " I said to myself as Mary closed the door. "We never havebefore. "

The owners called next, singly and in couples. We were delighted to meetthem, for we were convinced that we never would have had the pleasure oftheir acquaintance under any other circumstances. 

After more interviews and letters than any $27 ever occasioned before, wefinally received a letter stating that our claim had been allowed, andthey enclosed a receipt in full for November's rent. 

Nobody believed us when we told them, and we nearly wore the letter outexhibiting it. It is worn at the folding places now from much handling, like an autograph letter of Lincoln's or Washington's. 

During the following year a new firm of agents took possession of us, whoknew us not, so that the next October, when we wanted heat, the samepatronizing manner greeted the Angel when he telephoned for permission tohave the janitor light the furnaces. 

"Oh, no. Oh, no, Mr. --er--Really, we couldn't consider such a request, "came a voice. 

"Look here, " said Aubrey. "I am the man who went to the Waldorf lastyear when the agent refused us heat and took twenty-seven dollars out ofthe rent. You may have heard of me. "

"What name, sir? Oh, Jardine! Yes, Mr. Jardine, you shall have heatwithin an hour. "

The next morning the janitor--also a new one by the way--told the Angelthat he got a telephone message from the agent to start a fire in thefurnace if he had to tear off wooden doors and burn them!

"All of which goes to show, " said Aubrey to me, "that somebody ought towrite a book on 'The Value of the Kicker. '"

CHAPTER V

HOW WE TAMED THE COOK

Second only to the skill required in managing a husband is the diplomacynecessary in the art of living with one's cook. Therefore let theunmarried pass this over, feeling that the time for them to read it isnot yet, but let those who have a cross-grained, crotchety, obstinate, orbad-tempered cook take this to a quiet corner and hear my tale. While itmay not be exactly your experience it cannot fail to touch a responsivechord, for whether you have already had a spoiled cook or not, restassured that you will have one some day, and do not scorn to make her thesubject of deep and earnest study and the object of diplomaticnegotiations. 

In our case Mary was old and obstinate, but her virtues were too many todismiss her without valiant efforts made to reform her in one or twoparticulars. It is, alas! but too true, that perfection does not exist, especially in cooks. But as even her failings leaned to virtue's side webore and bore with her, making light of our inconveniences, andpretending not to notice that we could never make her do anything thatshe had not wanted to do beforehand. It was a good deal of a strain onus sometimes, for we are self-respecting folk, with excellent opinions ofourselves. 

But among her good points was an absolute reverence for food. She neverwasted a mouthful, even saving the crusts she cut from the toast to grindfor breading and doing all the thrifty things one would do oneself, butwhich no cook ever born is expected to do nowadays. She had lived someyears in Paris, for one thing, and for another, --"Missis, I alwaysbelieve that them that wastes--wants. I've seen it too many times towant to run the risk. "

Mary is a character, but this theory of hers she carried to an extreme, as you shall hear. 

Owing to our respect for Mary's white hairs, the dinner-hour was aschangeable as a weathercock. We dined anywhere from seven to nine, andsoothed each other's irritation by calling ostentatious attention to thedelicacy and perfection of each dish as it came on the table. Whyshouldn't each be perfect, forsooth, when no amount of coaxing orpersuading, no amount of instructions beforehand or hints or orders couldmake that cook of ours lift a finger toward dinner until we both were inthe house with hungry countenances and expectant demeanours? We eventried telephoning her from down-town that we were on the way and would beat home in an hour. When we came in at the end of that hour and said:

"Mary, is dinner ready?" the answer was always:

"No, dear child, but it will be in a minute. "

At first we believed her and hurried to get ready, but as ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed and no signs of soup appeared, we used to taketurns strolling carelessly into the kitchen as if to see what time itwas, to investigate the progress of dinner. If we came in at seven wegot it at eight. There was no way apparently of circumventing her. Shewould have her own way. 

Once the Angel said:

"Mary, didn't we telephone you that we wanted dinner just as soon as wecame in?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, wasn't it six o'clock when we telephoned?"

"Yes, sir, but I just thought maybe you would be delayed or the car wouldrun off the track or you'd stop to talk to some friends, so I wouldn'tbegin to cook until I clapped my two eyes on you. "

At first we used to laugh and say that it was her respect for food. Thenit worked on our tempers and grew anything but funny. It got to beexasperating, infuriating, maddening. 

"Now, Aubrey, " I said, "it has come to the battle with the cook. Shallwe submit to petty tyranny or shall we strike?"

"I'll tell you what, " said the Angel. "I haven't quite made up my mindwhether Mary is really amenable to kindness or whether she takes us forsuckers. "

"Oh, " I gasped. I had never taken myself for a "sucker" before, and evenin such good company as that of my husband it gave me a jar to hear thepossibility mentioned. 

"I am convinced of one thing, " he went on, "Mary has been badly spoiled, and, while I have no objection to her ruling us in any way she likes, Iam going to compel her to obey orders when she gets them. "

"Oh, be careful!" I cried. 

"I'm going to. But first I am going to investigate the labyrinths of hermind. If it is that she respects food more than she does our feelings, I'll do one thing. If it is that kindness won't work, I'll try severity. But I'm going to make that old woman obey me and have dinner on time. "

The Angel delivered this alarming ultimatum without raising his voice andwith no more emphasis than he would use in saying:

"May I trouble you for the salt?"

I leaned back and looked at him. 

"As if you could be severe with any one, you Angel!"

From which remark the knowing can easily deduce the length of time we hadbeen married. 

It was then ten minutes to eight. We had come in at six, and at five wehad telephoned her to have dinner promptly at seven. 

"I hope you had a good tea, " said Aubrey, looking at the clock. 

"I did. It isn't that I am hungry. I'm mad, " I answered, genially. 

"I am not mad. I am hungry, " said Aubrey. 

"Being hungry for a man is the same as being mad for a woman, " I observed. 

Aubrey grinned. 

"Now, " he said, mysteriously. "Don't eat any dinner to-night, and followmy lead in everything. "

"Don't eat any dinner!" I cried, in a whisper. "I am starv--"

"Hush, " he whispered. "You said you weren't hungry. "

Although we were only ten feet away from her and in plain view, Marystruck the Roman chime of bells, by which she always announces dinner. 

As we took our seats the clock struck eight. The table was a dream ofloveliness. Wedding-silver, wedding-glass, wedding-linen graced it atevery turn, for Mary always decorates for us as for a banquet. 

Never has the fragrant odour of soup assailed me as it did on thatparticular night. Mary hovered around, watching to see how we liked it. We tasted it, and laid our spoons down. We talked languidly, withoutnoticing her. 

"What's the matter with the soup?" she finally demanded when she couldstand it no longer. We looked up as if surprised. 

"Why, nothing, " said Aubrey. "I don't care for it. That's all. Take itaway. "

"It will do nicely for to-morrow night, " said Mary. 

At that Aubrey dropped his entire cigarette into his and I put a spoonfulof salt into mine. 

"Isn't it good, Missis?" asked Mary of me. 

"I don't know, " I said, wearily. "I'm too tired to eat. "

"Take it away, " said Aubrey again. 

"My poor dear child!" cried Mary. "Too tired to eat! But eating will doyou good. Taste a bit! Try it, Missis dear!"

"No, I don't seem to care for it, and I was very hungry at seven o'clock. Don't you remember, Aubrey, I said coming up in the elevator how hungry Iwas?"

"I remember, " said my husband. "But you are just like me. If you don'thave your meals at a certain time your appetite goes. "

At that Mary lifted her head and looked at us through her spectacles. Never were four more innocent eyes to be met with than ours. We lookedat her calmly until she lowered her gaze. It was not an impudent nor adefiant look she gave us. It was a trial of wills. Our two against herone. 

She removed the soup without more ado, and brought in a broiled chicken. Oh, oh! Shall I ever forget it! I was so hungry by that time that Icould have bitten a piece out of my plate. 

Mary stood by with a face as anxious as if she were standing by thedeath-bed of her child. 

Aubrey lifted it with the carving-fork, looked at me, and said:

"Do you feel as if you could eat a little bit of this?"

A little bit! I felt as if I could have snatched it in my paws and rungrowling to a corner to devour the whole of it and to bury the bones forthe next day. 

"No, " I said, wearily, leaning my head on my hand to hide my countenance. "But you eat some, dear. "

Aubrey laid down the carving-fork. 

"No, I don't care for any. "

"What time did you have your luncheon, dear?" I asked, anxiously. 

"At half-past twelve. I had an appointment with Squires at one. "

"And what did you have?" I continued, for Mary's face was expressive ofthe liveliest horror. 

"A club sandwich and a glass of beer. "

Mary looked at the clock. It was half-past eight. 

"Oh, my dear!" I said, mournfully. "It is no wonder you can't eat. Yourstomach is too exhausted to feel hunger. "

Mary ran around the table for no reason at all. She took the cover offthe best silver dish. It was a dish of fresh peas cooked with onions andlettuce. Petits pois à la paysanne! I had taught her myself! I simplyglared at it. To this day I can smell those onions!

"If I could have had those at seven o'clock, " said Aubrey, sadly, "Icould have eaten every one of them. They look delicious, Mary, but Ireally--no, don't urge me! Take the dinner off. "

"Oh, boss dear, if you'd just take a lick at them!" implored Mary. "Justone lick--there's a handsome man!"

Aubrey bit his lips. I was trembling on the verge of hysterical laughter. 

Mary implored in vain. With our famished eyes on the peas and chicken wesaw them disappear through the swinging door. Mary in her agony wastalking aloud. 

"Keep it up!" whispered the Angel. "This will fetch her! She's ready tocry. "

"Oh, but Aubrey, " I moaned. "I'm ready to gnaw the napkin and eat myslippers. Please come and tighten my belt!"

"I know now how explorers and castaways feel, " murmured the Angel. "Forheaven's sake, what comes next?"

"Asparagus!" I wailed. "Fresh asparagus. I paid ninety cents for it!And she's cooked it with her white sauce--oh!"

The door opened and Mary, with pink cheeks and dancing eyes, brought inand deposited before me my favourite dish. Asparagus on toast. I lookedat it longingly, feverishly! I was famishing. My throat was dry and myeyes had a savage glare. I had heard of men going mad for want of food. I know now how they felt. 

At first I could not speak. I was obliged to swallow violently. 

"There!" cried Mary, triumphantly. "You can't pass that up!"

"Alas!" I sighed, shaking my head. I looked at her and felt simplymurderous. That white-haired old woman's obstinacy in not giving us ourdinner on time was the cause of all my misery. I resolved to rub it in. Her face was a study. 

"Did you ever, " I said, mournfully, "see me refuse asparagus before?"

"You're never going to refuse it!" exclaimed Mary, incredulously. "Missis! I used a pint of cream, to say nothing of the butter! Why, it's a sin! It's a mortal sin in you not to try it! See, Missis, let meput a little on your plate. I'll feed it to you like as if you were ababy! I will indeed!"

"No, " I said, clutching at the table-cloth to keep from falling upon thatdish of asparagus and shovelling it down my throat in hugehandfuls, --"no, I couldn't! Mary! I am too weak, really, I think I amstarving!"

I leaned back and closed my eyes. The clock struck nine. 

"You've had nothing to eat all day!" cried Mary. "You had only a bitefor your lunch, and that was eight hours ago! Oh, Missis, dear! Ain't Ithe mean dog! Let me make you a cup of tea! Missis dear! In the nameof God eat something! Do!"

"No, " I said. "I have always been this way. If I go five minutes overthe time when I expect my dinner, I feel just this way. I can't eat. "

With which astonishing lie, I leaned back as if death were alreadylooming up in the distance. 

Mary made one more attack. Salad was the Angel's weak point as asparaguswas mine, and Mary always made a dream of beauty out of it. She scorned"_fatiguer la laitue_" as the French do. Instead she kept it in a bowlof water until thoroughly "awake, " as she called it. Then carefullyexamining each leaf separately, she tied them in a wet cloth and laidthem "spang on the ice, " which course of treatment rendered them so crispthat to cut them with a sharp salad-fork was always to get a littledressing splashed in one's eye. Furthermore she arranged them in thebest cut-glass dish in symmetrical rows with the scarlet tomatoes tuckedinvitingly in the centre. She presented us with such a dish on thisevening. Then when Aubrey (who will be remembered when he is no more, not for his moral qualities nor for his domestic virtues, but for theskill with which he used to mix a salad dressing) went to work andprepared one from tarragon, vinegar, oil, Nepaul pepper, paprika, blackand cayenne pepper, to say nothing of plenty of salt, --words fail me! Isimply pass away at the recollection. 

I have never been able to make up my mind whether Mary suspected us ornot. Of course we overdid the part, but it was a physical necessity. Ican go without a thing altogether, but I cannot be moderate. I reallythought I was not hungry until Aubrey told me not to eat, and that, ofcourse, was enough to make any woman ravenous. If he had told me "tobuck up and eat a good dinner, " of course I could only have nibbled. 

She broke out again, and pleaded hard for us to drink our coffee, but wewere obdurate. 

Finally we got up from the table and Mary removed the cloth, muttering toherself. I overheard some of it, but where any other cook would havebeen furious at us for not eating her delicious dinner, the dear oldsoul's rage was all directed against herself, and she was vituperatingherself in language which would not have gone through the mails. 

But now the question was where and how to get our dinner so that Marywould not suspect. To send her to church and forage in our own ice-boxwas out of the question, for she knows to a dot how much there is ofeverything, and I cannot take an olive that she does not miss it and comeand ask me if I took it, to avert suspicion from the ice-man. Furthermore, it we both went out, she might suspect. And we had taughther too heroic a lesson to go and spoil it by carelessness now. 

"What shall we do?" murmured my husband. 

"There's only one thing to do, " I said, in low, even tones, with my bookbefore my face. "Go out and buy something ready cooked, --something whichleaves no trace, --something small enough to go into your overcoat pocket, but oh, in the name of heaven, get enough!"

Mary came in as the outer door slammed. 

"Where's boss gone?" she demanded. Perhaps it was only my guiltyconscience which made her tones sound suspicious. 

"Just over to Columbus Avenue to get a paper, " I said. 

"Oh!"

I waited in a guilty and trembling silence for the Angel to return. Whatif Mary should take it into her head to come and help him off with hisovercoat? She often did. I softly opened the outer door. If she didn'thear him enter, all would be well. 

Presently he came up. He got out of the elevator stealthily, and I methim with my finger on my lip. 

"Aren't you going to take off your hat?" I said, as he stole down thecorridor. 

"Can't!" he whispered. "I've got cream puffs in it. "

I only waited to ward off an attack from the rear. I put my head in atthe butler's pantry. 

"Mary, I have such a headache that I am going to bed now, so be as quietas you can, won't you?"

"I'll come and open the bed for you right this instantaneous minute, mypoor dear child, " she said, taking her hands out of the dish-water. 

"No, I'll open it! I don't mind in the least, " I said, eagerly. 

"Not at all! Do you think I'll be letting you lift your hand when you'resick?"

Finding that I could not prevent her, I hurried down the hall to discoverthe Angel looking wildly for a place of escape--still with his hat on. Imotioned him into the bathroom, and his coat-tails disappeared therein, just as Mary loomed into view. 

It took her a full quarter of an hour to open that bed, for nothing woulddo but she must unhook me. And all that time my thoughts were on thecream puffs. I did hope that Aubrey would have sense enough to put themon the wash-stand. 

Finally I got rid of Mary, and released the Angel. He clanked as he camein, but that was two pint bottles of beer. 

I locked the door, and then he unloaded. Besides the beer and creampuffs, he had four devilled crabs and two dill pickles, four clubsandwiches, some Roquefort cheese, and some Bent biscuits. 

He was obliged to make one more dangerous pilgrimage to the front hall toslam the door and hang up his hat and coat, otherwise Mary would havegone out after him. We have such a competent cook. 

Finally we sat down and gorged on that impossible mixture. We had onlyAubrey's pocket-knife, a paper-cutter, and a button-hook to eat with, andrather than to stop and wash out his shaving-cup we drank out of thebottles. 

We ate until we felt the need of dyspepsia tablets, but still there wassome left. This Aubrey did up in a neat package, we raised the window, turned out the lights, and threw it far, far out into the night. Welistened and heard it fall in a neighbour's back yard. 

Now, if we had stopped there, all would have been well, but Fate temptedus in the person of a vile and nasty little curly white dog, with a pinkskin and a blue ribbon around her neck, whose mistress used to lead herup and down in front of our apartment-house every evening. She was avery nasty little dog, badly spoiled, and we had longed to kick her forsix months, but her mistress was always there and we couldn't. 

But oh, joy! On this particular night, she was in the back yard allalone, yapping and whining to get indoors. Clearly this was the bestplace for the empty beer bottles. 

"Don't hit her, Aubrey. Just aim for the cement walk. That will scareher to death. "

The Angel seldom follows my wicked counsel, but this was the hand ofProvidence. No one, who has not owned a big dog, can know how we hatedthis miserable, pampered little cur. 

So Aubrey took aim. The beer bottle hurtled through the air. We steppedback and listened. It crashed on the walk, and such a series of agonizedyelps from the frightened little beast resulted as I never before hadheard. We clutched each other in silent ecstasy. Fortunately the pup'smistress had not heard. 

Emboldened by success we stole forth again, and shied the second bottle. But that time Providence was against us, for, at the identical momentthat the bottle hit the corner of the house and flew into a millionpieces, the door opened and the dog's mistress appeared. 

The crash was something awful. Nobody was hit or hurt, but the womanshrieked and the Angel and I fell to the floor as if shot. Instantlywindows flew up, and as each head appeared the infuriated woman accusedit of having thrown the bottle. I reached for the Angel's hand as wegrovelled on the floor, and our former spirit returned as indignantdenials were followed by more indignant slamming of windows. 

Finally--silence. Two hands sneaked up in the darkness and pulled ourwindow down. 

"We could prove an alibi, " I giggled, "for Mary would go on the stand andswear that I was in bed prostrated with a headache!"

The next night the soup was on the table at five minutes before seven, and we heard that the white dog was laid up for a week with an "_attaquedes nerfs_. "

"Who would have thought, " I sighed, in delight, "of the luck of fetchingMary and that white dog both in one evening!"

CHAPTER VI

THE BEST MAN'S STORY

Trouble began to brew for the best man at my bridesmaid's dinner, butit was all his fault. He says it was mine. 

I claim, and I think that all girls will support me in this theory, that at all wedding functions, such as teas, receptions, luncheons, anddinners, the best man owes the maid of honour the first and most of hisattentions. It is her due, and no matter whether he likes her or hatesher; no matter if he is already in love with another girl, or sees onethere that he would like to be in love with, he belongs, for thewedding festivities, to the first bridesmaid. It is like the girl yourhostess assigns to you at dinner, --you _must_ be nice to her. 

So Cary Farquhar thought, and so I think. Artie Beguelin said:

"Then you oughtn't to have invited Flora Forsyth to the bridesmaid'sdinner. "

Well, perhaps I oughtn't. But I did, because she asked to come. Onecan't refuse a request of that sort. Even Aubrey admits that. 

Flora was a dreamy, trusting blonde. She was an innocent appearinglittle thing, and although she was just out of college, I believed shewould faint at the idea of a cigarette in a girl's fingers or any ofthe mad things college girls are supposed to do when larking. She hadno sense of humour, and I simply could not think of her as up to anymischief. That is why, when she said she had fallen in love with me, Ibelieved her. She knew I was to have Cary for my only attendant, butshe begged so innocently to come to the bridesmaid's dinner and to sitwith the family behind the white ribbon, that I hadn't the heart to sayno. That is why she was at the dinner, and what happened there youshall hear presently. 

Arthur Beguelin was the Angel's best man. He, too, was Aubrey's soleattendant, for we had no ushers. 

Artie was neither clever nor stupid, but that gentle, amiable crossbetween the two which made him fair game for a designing girl. He wasbetter than clever. He was magnetic, as Cary and Flora found to theirsorrow. 

His father had been enormously wealthy, but his vast property hadslipped out of his keeping, and had become involved in a lawsuit ofsuch dimensions and such hopeless duration that Artie might just aswell consider himself as a ward in chancery, and be done with it. 

This loss of fortune, however, instead of demoralizing him, had beenhis salvation. It set him to work, and made a man of him. He neverbelieved that he would inherit a dollar of his father's, so he preparedto make his own way in the world, regardless of golden hopes. 

But not so his friends. His prospects, hazy as they were, made himmost interesting to match-making mothers, and as his indomitablecourage made him interesting to the other and better sort, you will seethat Artie was pursued rather more than most eligible young men. Thispursuit had made him wary and cautious. Had he been moreintrospective, it would have embittered him; but it shows his amiablemodesty when I assert that Artie only fought shy of the more aggressiveanglers, whose landing-nets were always in evidence, while he neverrefused to swim nimbly around and even nibble at the bait of the moretactful. 

I have described him thus carefully, because it just shows how the mostwary of men can be caught napping by the right kind of cleverness, andwhich was the right girl for him it took both us and him some time todiscover. 

At first sight, it seemed to be Flora. As Aubrey said: "It was all offwith him from the moment he saw her. " He had been the stroke in theYale crew during two glorious years of victory, and, like most men whogloried in the companionship of athletic girls, he elected to fall inlove with Flora, who, the first time she met him, wanted to know thedifference between a putter and a bunker, which so tickled Artie thathe put in two good hours explaining it to her. 

Cary had known Flora for some time, but two girls could not have beenmore unlike. Cary was rich, courted, and flattered. She had only toexpress a wish to have it granted, yet, strange anomaly, she was themost unselfish girl I ever knew, and was always going out of her way tobe nice to people. 

Flora was poor. She went to college by means of a loan from a richwoman, and kept herself there by winning scholarships. She expected toteach for a living, and she hated the prospect. She had to work hardfor everything she had, which was probably the reason why she was soselfish. To be sure, she was always offering you things, but it waseither after some one else had offered first, or else she offeredthings you couldn't possibly want. And as to offering to do things foryou, I never saw her equal at the formula, "I am going down-town. Can't I do something for you?" Yet if you by any chance made themistake of saying, "That's awfully good of you. I _would_ like threeyards of French nainsook, " in half an hour Flora would come in with thestory that she had been telephoned out to luncheon and wasn't goingdown-town, or else had a headache and couldn't go, after all; or, ifshe went, she did her own shopping first and came in breathless with a"I'm so tired! I went everywhere for your French nainsook, but everyshop was just out of it. I tried _so_ hard, and now you'll think I amjust stupid and _can't_ shop. "

At which you always had to comfort her and do something extra forher, to show that you didn't blame her in the least. Whenever shehad grossly imposed upon you, Flora had a way of looking at youwith what I called the "dog look, "--a humble, faithful, adoring, "don't-kick-me-because-I-love-you-so" look, which used to give mewhat Angel calls the jiggle-jaggles, which is only another name fortwitching nerves, --either mental or physical. 

However, I have noticed that these people who are always offering their"Can't I do something for you?" never expect to be taken up. I supposeit isn't in human nature any more to be helpful to a friend. Theanswer to that question is "Thank you so much, dear, for offering, butI really don't want a thing!" That cements the friendship. 

Cary was honest, straightforward, and thoughtful. Flora was crafty, deceitful, and brilliant, but her innocent eyes and baby ways made hercleverness seem like that of a precocious child, so that she alwaysdisarmed suspicion. 

She deceived me so skilfully and completely that I find myselfthoroughly mixed in describing her, for at one moment I tell how sheappeared to me at first, and the next I find myself setting her forthas I found her after Cary and Aubrey had set a trap to make me see herin her true light. They were obliged to set a trap, for my loyalty isof the blind, stupid sort, which will not be convinced, and all thearguments in the world would only have made me more ardently championher as a friend. 

You could not call Cary athletic, because she did not go in forout-of-door sports to the exclusion of the gentler forms of amusement. But whatever she did, she did so well that you would think she hadgiven most of her time to the mastering of that one accomplishment. But here is where her cleverness showed most. It was not that shereally did everything, and did it perfectly. It was that she neverattempted anything which she had not mastered. For example, she neverplayed whist, because she had no memory, no finesse, and because sheplayed games of chance so much better. She could never settle herselfdown to a multitude of details, but she could plan and execute a coupof such brilliancy that it would make your hair stand on end. Such wasCary Farquhar, and her most successful coup was the way she compelledme to see Flora Forsyth in her true colours. 

Sometimes I think I am quite clever. Again I think I am a perfectfool. And the agains come oftener than the sometimes. 

I would enjoy making a continuous narrative of this story, as I couldif I were writing a book, but this is a record of real life, and reallife does not happen in finished chapters. If you try to make it, youeither have to leave out a bit, or go back and repeat something. 

Thus, in telling this story of Flora, if I told the perfect faith I hadin her at first and of how utterly I came to know and despise herafterward, I should show to everybody the fool I made of myself, andthat exhibition I prefer to keep as much to myself as possible. TheAngel knows it, and that is bad enough. So that is why I must make ahodge-podge of it, telling a bit here and a bit there, just as thingshappened, and pretending that I saw through her from the first--which, however, I didn't. 

But, in order to give some idea of her methods, which are of interestas a human document, I must set down faithfully how I came to be drawninto this love-story, and how the Angel and Cary pulled me out. 

This is the very beginning of it. 

If you knew our best man, you probably would not be surprised to makethe discovery that I made--to wit: that two girls were in love with himat the same time, for the most ordinary of men have sometimes apowerful attraction for the most superior of girls, and Arthur Beguelinwas much above the ordinary, in looks, manners, breeding, and wealth. He was, as I have said, almost rich, which would of itself, to thecynic, preclude his being at all nice. But he was nice. I liked him, the Angel liked him, and these two girls loved him. 

I will admit, however, that I was surprised, --just a little, --at first, but after I thought about it, I said to Aubrey, "Well, why not?" Hesaid, "Why not what?"

"Why _shouldn't_ two girls be in love with him?"

"They should, " said the Angel, pleasantly. "There is no doubt in theworld that they should. But who are the girls and who is the man?"

I thought of course that he knew what I was talking about, or Ishouldn't have begun in the middle like that, but after all, if you_do_ begin in the middle, you can often skip the whole beginning, andhurry along to the end. 

"Why, Artie Beg, to be sure! Who else? And as to the girls--well, asI discovered it for myself, I shall not be betraying their confidenceto say that the girls are--will you _promise_ not to tell nor tointerfere in anyway?"

"Of course, " said the Angel. 

"Well, the girls are Flora Forsyth and Cary Farquhar. "

"Flora Forsyth!" exclaimed the Angel, with a wry face. 

"Now, Aubrey, what _have_ you against that poor girl? To me she is oneof the most fascinating creatures I ever saw. If I were a man, Ishould be crazy about her. "

"Then if you had been Samson, Delilah would have made a fool of youjust as easily as she did of him. "

"But Flora is no Delilah, Aubrey. "

"She's worse!" said the Angel, shortly. 

Aubrey leaned back in his Morris chair and puffed at his pipe. Presently he spoke:

"Those two girls are both clever, --as clever as they make 'em, --butCary's cleverness is full of ozone, while Flora's is permeated with anarcotic. Cary's tricks make one laugh, but the other girl's give onethe shivers. "

"Oh, is it as bad as that?" I said, in affright. "Don't you like her?"

"Like her!" reflected the Angel, slowly. "I hate her. "

I gasped. Never, never had my husband expressed even a settled dislikeof any one before, while as to the word "hate"--

"Oh, Aubrey!" I cried, tearfully. "I _wish_ you had said it before. The fact is, I've--well, I've invited her to visit me and she saysshe'll come. "

If I expected an explosion, I was mistaken. Aubrey bit into hispipe-stem and sat looking at me for a moment without speaking, a kind, wistful look which completely undid me, and made me resolved never, _never_ again to do a single thing without consulting him first. Thenhe leaned forward and slowly began to empty and clean his pipe. 

"You like her very much?" he said, tentatively. 

"I do, indeed!" I exclaimed, enthusiastically. "And she is _so_ fondof you. She fairly adores you. If you would only _try_ to like her, Aubrey--she likes you so much--don't smile that way. You don't do herjustice. Indeed you don't. Why, she is the dearest, most confiding, innocent little thing, just out of college last month--a baby couldn'thave more clinging, dependent ways. "

"I'm glad she is coming to visit you, if that's the way you feel abouther, " he said. 

I drew a sigh of relief. _Some_ husbands would have made such a fussthat their wives would have felt obliged to cancel the invitation. Aubrey was different. 

"How did you come to invite her?" he asked, presently. 

I smiled in pleased anticipation of a good long talk with my husband, in which I could explain everything. 

"Why, you know at the wedding I saw that Artie was very much taken withher, --and--"

"First, tell me how she came to sit with the family, inside the whiteribbon?"

"Why, she wrote and asked if she couldn't. She said she loved me soshe felt as if she were losing a sister, and that she wanted to sitwith mother and mourn with the family. "

Aubrey grinned and I felt foolish. 

"And you believed her, you silly little cat!"

"It does sound idiotic to repeat it, but it read as if she meant it, " Isaid, blushing. 

"Never mind, dear, " said the Angel. "You are all right. "

Now, when Aubrey says I am "all right, " it means that I am all wrong, but that he loves me in spite of it. 

"Bee says, " I said between laughing and crying, "that I am just like astray dog. A pat on the head and a few kind words, and I'd followanybody off. "

"It would take something more substantial than that to make Bee followanybody off, " observed Bee's brother-in-law. 

"Well, and so she and he were together all that evening, and afterwardthey corresponded. But Cary, being my bridesmaid, had, of course, thefirst claim on Artie's attention, but he was so taken with Flora thathe sort of neglected Cary. Then, Cary being so spoiled by being richand courted and flattered, was piqued into trying to make him noticeher, which old stupid Artie refused to do, but tagged around afterFlora as if she had hypnotized him. Then Cary must have been quiteroused, for the first thing I knew she was showing unmistakable signsof its being the real thing with her, though, of course, she would denyit with oaths if I taxed her, while Flora--"

I stopped in sudden confusion. 

"I forget, " I faltered. "I said that neither had confided in me, but--"

Aubrey grinned. 

"But Flora has, " he supplemented. "She has confessed her love, notblushingly, but tumultuously, brazenly, tempestuously, and has beggedyou to help her!"

I paused aghast. Aubrey had exactly stated the case. 

"Well, she told Cary, too, " I said, in self-extenuation, "so she can'tcare very much that I've told you. "

"Oh, no, " said Aubrey, cheerfully. "She'll tell me herself the firstchance she gets. "

"She told Cary that she had told me, so we felt at liberty to talk itover, " I added. 

"She did?"

"And Cary was perfectly disgusted with her, and asked what I was goingto do. I said I didn't know. Then what do you think she did? Caryasked me to ask Flora to visit me! What do you think of that for abluff?"

Again Aubrey grinned. He shook his head. 

"That was no bluff, Faith dear. That was a move in a game of chess. Cary Farquhar is the choicest--_unmarried_--girl I know! By Jove, she's a corker!"

"She just did it to throw me off--to show me that _she_ didn't wanthim!" I persisted. 

The Angel shook his head and smiled inscrutably. 

"When does she come?" he asked. 

"Next week. "

Aubrey pulled at his pipe. 

"There will be something doing here next week, I'm thinking. "

There was something doing. 

First, I told old Mary that I was going to have company. 

One ordinarily does not ask permission of one's cook, but Mary was sucha mother to me that I felt the announcement to be no more than her due. 

"Who is it, Missus, dear?"

"Miss Flora Forsyth. Have you ever heard me speak of her?"

"Do you mean that blonde on the mantelpiece?" she asked, in theconversational tone of one who but passed the time o' day. 

"Mary!" I said. 

She walked up to Flora's picture, took it down, looked at it, and putit back. 

"Well, " I said, tentatively, "what do you think of her?"

"What do I think of her?" demanded Mary, wheeling on me so suddenlythat I dodged. "I think she is a little blister--that's what I thinkof her. And you'll rue the day you ever asked her into your house. "

Ordinarily one would reprove one's cook for such freedom of speech, butI had brought it on myself. Therefore I saved my breath, put on myhat, and went out, ruminating and somewhat shaken in my mind to havethe two household authorities against me. 

However, true to my determination to make her visit as attractive aspossible, I purchased at least a dozen sorts of fine French marmalades, jellies, sweets, and fancy pickles, such as schoolgirls love. 

She had told me so many times how she had always wanted her breakfastin her room, but had never been able to have it, that I decided to giveher that privilege in my house. I told Mary with some misgivings, andshowed her the things I had bought. To my surprise, Mary assentedjoyfully. I never knew why until after Flora left. Then Mary told me. I even selected the china she was to use on the breakfast-tray. It wasblue and gold. Flora loved blue. Then I took a final look ateverything, gave a few last orders, and dismissed all worry from mymind. 

Her room, _the guest chamber_ of the Jardines, was fresh for her. Noone had ever slept in that bed, fluttered those curtains, nor writtenat that desk. Flora would be its first occupant. 

And how her blond beauty matched its pale blue and gold loveliness! Itgave me thrills of delight to think of her in the midst of it all. 

But of course it was Cary I loved. Flora simply fascinated me. Shepossessed the attractions of a Circe, but Cary was worth a million ofher, and I knew it and I wanted her to have Artie Beg, or anybody elseon earth she fancied. The whole proposition was as plain as day when Icame to think about it. I was Cary's champion, Cary's friend, andintended Cary to win. Why, therefore, had I permitted myself to beinveigled into asking Flora to visit me, under the supposition that Iwas going to help her? It was not because Cary had begged me to. Notat all. It was Flora herself who had managed it, I reflected, and itgave me a bitter, uncomfortable twinge to realize that whatever Florahad wanted me to do, in our brief friendship, I had done, no matterwhose judgment it went against. 

Had the girl hypnotic power, or was I a weak fool to be flattered intodoing her bidding?

I don't like to think of myself as a weak fool, even for the sake ofargument. 

The two girls had hated each other at sight, as was natural. Caryadmitted the reason with glorious frankness. 

"Of course I hate her, " she said, with a lift of her sleek brown head, "didn't she usurp my prerogatives at the wedding? The best manbelongs, for that evening alone, to the maid of honour--he can't escapeit--it is his fate. Common civility should have chained him to mychariot wheels, but with that white-headed Lilith at work on him, withher half-shut eyes, she had him queered before he even saw me. Butwait. My turn will come. "

Flora said to me:

"Of course I hate her, because _you_ love her. You love her betterthan you love me. You have known her longer--that's the only reason!She doesn't care _that_ for you. It's because you are married, and cangive her a good time that she pretends to care for you. _I_ know. Oh, you may laugh and think I am jealous or insane or anything you like. Well, then, I _am_ jealous, for I love you better than anybody in theworld, and I want you to love me in the same way. I love you betterthan I love my mother--or my father--or even Artie Beg! And I amjealous of every one you speak to. I am jealous most of all of Aubrey, for you have eyes for no one on earth but him. I could hate him when Ithink of it. "

At that I _did_ laugh, but she was a good actress, and said it as ifshe meant it. 

Flora always acted as if she knew of my repressed childhood, and ofhow, all my life, I had thirsted for praise. No matter if it had beenput on with a trowel, as hers undoubtedly was, I would have wrappedmyself in its tropical warmth and luxuriance, and never paused toquarrel with its effulgence. While dear old Cary let her actionsspeak, and seldom put her affection for me into words. But she hadbeen on the eve of sailing for a winter in Egypt when my hurriedwedding preparations and frantic telegram arrested her. The partysailed without her, and she did not try to follow. And that was onlyone of the many sacrifices she had made for me, and made without aword, too. 

She was a girl of thought and of ideas, but unfortunately she was agreat heiress, and fortune-hunters had made her suspicious and cynical. Only Aubrey and I knew how glorious she could be when she let herselfout and expressed her real self. 

The first thing Flora did to make me uncomfortable was to pump theAngel about Artie's law-suit. 

It was so intricate, so long drawn out, and so enormous in itsproportions, that it bade fair to resemble the famous Jarndyce andJarndyce. We had never mentioned it to Artie, but Flora, after a fewreluctant words from Aubrey, persuaded Artie, in the easiest wayimaginable, to tell her everything about it, from its inception. Shetold me she had even read half a dozen of her uncle's law-books, whichbore upon the knotty points Artie had described to her. Instead ofarousing his suspicions of mercenary motives, her innocent manner andflowerlike face deceived him into believing that her interest was verycommendable. She explained that she had always wanted to study law, but that her father wouldn't let her, so that she always coaxed herfriends to describe their law-suits to her, and then she read up onthem by herself. Artie thought this was wonderful. So it was. 

Cary would never listen to a word about it, nor read about it in thepapers; nor could she be inveigled into expressing an opinion about itone way or the other. Her pride revolted from appearing even to knowthat he had such prospects, faint and distant though they were. 

When Flora came, Mary put on her spectacles before she opened the door. I noticed the look she gave all three of us. It did not speak well forFlora. 

But, at first, her shyness and modesty left nothing to be desired. Herclothes were simple even to plainness, her voice soft and deprecating, and her manner deferential in the extreme. She was always askingadvice, and where that advice was given, she always followed it. Flattery could go no further. 

Artie came to see her, morning, noon, and night. I was horrified todiscover how far things seemed to have progressed, for, after all, itwas Cary who _must_ have Artie if she wanted him. 

Cary called on Flora once, and we returned it, but she did not comeagain. So I resolved on a dinner, and Cary promised to come. Theothers were to be the Jimmies, Bee, and three more persons soinsignificant, so vapid, so entirely not worth describing that, in arace, they would not even be mentioned as "also rans. " In short, theywere the typical dinner-guests the hostess always fills in with. 

I worked hard on that dinner. Flora offered to help, but Mary, withoutactually refusing her assistance, managed to do without it, and I didnot realize until afterward how quickly Flora accepted her fate, andcurled herself up luxuriously on Aubrey's couch in Aubrey's particularcorner to read, while I bleached the almonds which she had offered todo. 

Flora kept me well informed of the progress of Artie's passion for her, and I could do nothing. I was surprised at her confiding such detailsto any one, dismayed for Cary's sake, and worried as to how it wouldturn out. 

Finally the evening of the dinner came. I dressed and ran out to thekitchen to see if everything was all right, for Mary was so jealous sherefused to let me engage an assistant, but doggedly persisted inpreparing and serving the dinner entirely by herself. 

To my surprise, I found the dining-room and kitchen shades pulled up tothe tops of the windows, while every handsome dish Mary intended touse, and all the extra silver, were carefully placed on top of thelaundry-tubs. Mary, apparently unconscious of observation, was flyingaround with pink cheeks, and the eyes behind the spectacles snappingwith excitement. 

"Don't say a word, Missus, " she said, sitting on her heels before theoven door. "I did it for the benefit of the rubber factory opposite. They think I don't notice, but look at them windows. Not a light inany of 'em, but all the curtains moving just a little. Do they think Idon't know there's a rubber behind every damn one of 'em? Don't laugh, Missus dear, and don't look over there, whatever you do. If they wanta look at the things we eat, why let 'em! They know what they cost, but I'll bet they never do more than ask the price of 'em, and then buysoup-bones and canned vegetables for their own stomachs. "

Mary didn't say stomachs, but much of Mary's conversation does not lookwell in print. 

"And just wait till I take in the 'peche flambée'!" she chuckled. "I'll bet they'll order out the fire department!"

I said nothing, for the very excellent reason that there was reallynothing to say. Mary has a way of being rather conclusive. There wasno use in remonstrating or telling her not to, for she simply would nothave obeyed me, so I forbore to give the order. 

Flora heard Mary let Artie Beg in, and ran down the corridor to meethim. She was a vision in white--her graduation dress--with her snowyshoulders rising modestly from a tulle bertha. I paused in order tolet her greet him first, and, to my consternation, before I could makeknown my presence, I heard her say, plaintively:

"Aren't you going to kiss me?"

Then with a stifled groan Artie flung his arms around her, pressing herto him as if he would never let her go. Then he pushed her away fromhim almost roughly, and Flora laughed a low, tantalizing laugh, andcrept back to him to lean her head on his shoulder, and lay her armsaround his neck. 

I turned and fled. I fairly stampeded down the hall, running full tiltagainst Aubrey, and nearly folding him up. 

"Oh! Oh!" I gasped, dancing up and down before him excitedly. 

He seized both my hands. 

"Hold still, Faith! What's the matter? Tell me!"

"They're engaged!" I wailed. "I'm too late! Cary has lost him!"

"Who?"

"Artie and Flora. "

"What makes you think so?"

"He's kissing her! And she asked him to, just as if she had a right. I would not think so much of it, if he had just grabbed her and kissedher without a word, for she looks too witching, and any man might losehis head, but for her to ask for it--oh, what shall I do!"

"Hold on! You say she asked him to--tell me just how. "

I told him. 

The Angel put both hands in his pockets and whistled. 

"Don't worry, " he said. "They're not engaged. "

I felt relieved at once, for the Angel does not write books fromguesswork. He _knows_ things. 

But I was greatly confused at going back. Of course they did not knowthat I had seen and heard, and equally, of course, I could not tellthem. But I had my confusion all to myself. Artie seemed about asusual (which he wouldn't have done if he had known that there waspowder on his coat), and Flora was as cool as an iceberg. 

It seems to me, as I look back, that that was the first time Isuspected anything. It was almost uncanny to see her sitting therelooking so shy and demure, when two minutes before she had begged a manto kiss her, and laughed that cool, tantalizing laugh, as of one whoknew her power and revelled in the sight of her victim's struggles toescape. 

I turned to Cary, my well-bred girl, my friend, with a feeling ofrelief, as if I had found a refuge. Cary flushed a little as shegreeted Artie, and Flora's lip curled perceptibly. 

I glanced at the Angel, and saw that he, too, had noticed it. Butthen, Aubrey sees everything. That is why he writes as he does. Hismanner as he greeted Cary was so cordial that it caused Artie to lookup, and then, to my surprise, Artie got up from his chair, and came andstood by Cary and took her fan. 

I wish you could have seen Flora's blue eyes turn green. 

Then Bee and the Jimmies came, and, as usual, I straightway forgoteverything else, and bent my energies toward playing the part ofhostess so that Bee would not feel disgraced. 

I followed her eye as it travelled over our gowns and around theapartment. Bee does not realize that she has silently appointedherself Superior General to the universe, so she was somewhatdisconcerted, when, as she finally leaned back with a sigh which seemedto say, "This is really as well as anybody could do who didn't have meto consult with, " to hear Aubrey say, slyly:

"Well, Bee, does it suit?"

Bee assumed her most Park Lane air, and replied:

"I don't know what you mean, Aubrey. "

Then to avoid further pleasantries, Mary standing in the doorway, Imarshalled them all out to the table. 

Flora was between Aubrey and Artie, but I put Cary on the other side ofArtie, while I took Jimmie by me, and mercilessly handed Mrs. Jimmieover to the "also rans. "

Flora, who pretended jealousy of the Angel to veil her instinctivedislike of one who read her through and through, frankly turned herback on him, and tried all her wiles on Artie, which would not havedisconcerted him, had not the Also Ran commenced to smile and attractMrs. Jimmie's attention to it. 

This brought Artie from his trance sufficiently to cause him to turnhis attention to Cary, but it was so palpably forced that Cary devotedherself with ardour to Jimmie, and left Artie speechless. 

Then something spurred Flora to do a foolish thing. She deliberatelybegan to bait Cary--to say things to annoy her--to try to mortify her. At first Cary refused to see what was evident to the rest of us. (Oh, my dinner-party was proving such a success!)

At this critical juncture, Mary appeared bearing the chafing-dish fullof blazing, flaming peaches, and in watching me ladle the fiery liquid, hostilities were for the moment discontinued. Involuntarily, as Mary'ssatisfied countenance betokened her complete happiness at thesuccessful culmination of the dinner, my eyes wandered to thedining-room windows. I had drawn the shades with my own hand, but somemysterious agent had been at work, for they were let fly to the verywindow-tops. 

I glanced at Mary. She pressed her lips together with a whimsicaltwist, and surreptitiously raised a finger in sly warning. 

"Them rubbers are having a fit!" she murmured in my ear, as shedeferentially took a blazing peach from me, and placed it before Florawith a look so black it seemed to say:

"If you get your deserts, you little blister, it would set fire to you!"

They were talking about love when I began listening again, --and Carymade some remark inaudible to me, which gave Flora the opportunity tosay:

"Is it true, then, what I have heard? Were you ever disappointed inlove?"

"Always!" said Cary, evenly. 

Jimmie grinned and jogged my elbow. 

"Isn't she a dandy?" he whispered. "Never turned a hair. "

Flora flushed angrily because Artie laughed and looked appreciativelyat Cary, as if really seeing her for the first time. 

Every woman knows when that supreme moment comes--at least, every womanhas who has liked a man before he has liked her. She feels it withoutlooking at him. She knows it from the innermost consciousness of herbeing. "He is looking at me, " says her heart, "for the first time, with the eyes which a man has for a woman. "

Many a man has been selected first, as Cary selected Artie, and beenwooed by her as modestly and legitimately as she did, withoutsuspecting that he did not take the initiative every time. 

So a little modest courage and restrained self-reliance crept intoCary's manner, which had never been there before, and I, believingimplicitly in the Angel's _ipse dixit_ that Flora and the best man werenot engaged, had visions of the first bridesmaid's winning her lostplace with him, and, oh, making him pay for his neglect. 

If man only knew how heavily a flouted woman, after she has safely wonhim, does make him pay for his bad taste, he would be more careful. 

But Artie never knew. He sat there, listening to the biting wordswhich passed back and forth between Flora and Cary, without his modestypermitting him to realize that he was the stake these two clever girlswere throwing mental dice for. 

But Jimmie knew, for his blue eyes turned black, and his cigarettesburned out in two puffs, and his nervous hands clenched and unclenchedin his wicked wish to say something to aggravate the affair. Finally, meeting my derisive grin, he wrenched my little finger under the table, under pretence of picking up my handkerchief, and whispered:

"Oh, Lord, give me strength to keep out of this row!"

I laughed, of course, and so missed something, for the next thing Iheard, the conversation had become more personal, and Flora was saying:

"Love is an acquisition. The more you have, the more you want. "

"Pardon me, " said Cary. "To my mind, love is a sacrifice. Yet themore you give, the more you gain. "

"But I don't want to believe that!" pouted Flora, charmingly. "That isa cruel, ascetic conception of love. It makes me shiver, like readingthe New Testament. "

For the first time Artie spoke. 

"You prefer, then, the Song of Solomon?" And the Angel brought hishand down on the table a little heavily, and looked at me. 

"Yes, I do!" laughed Flora, thinking she had scored. "And Iknow--because I have loved!"

"You have loved, have you?" said Cary, leaning forward to look at heracross Artie's tucked shirt-front. "Then if you have, truly anddeeply, as a woman can, when she meets the man who is her mate, can youjest so lightly about love being an acquisition? Are you thinking ofhis income and what he can give you more than your father has been ableto do? Does your idea of marriage consist of dinner-parties and routs?Or do you think of the man himself? Of his noble qualities of heartand mind? Does not the idea of permanent prosperity sometimes fade, and in its place do you not sometimes see the man you love, poor, neglected by his friends, and jeered by his enemies? Does he notsometimes appear to you stretched on a weary bed of sickness? Can youpicture yourself his only friend, his only helper, his only comforter?If he were crippled for life, would you go out to try to earn bread fortwo, rejoicing that Fate had only taken his strength to toil, and nothis strength to love? Would you still count yourself a blessed womanif you knew that everything were swept away but the love of a man worthloving like that?"

Flora quailed, and drew back, abashed and a little frightened, butArtie's face was a study. At a sign from Aubrey, I looked at Mrs. Jimmie and rose. Just behind me, as I turned, I heard Artie whisper toCary:

"Tell me, have _you_ ever loved like that?"

And Cary's murmured reply:

"Not yet, but--I could. "

After that, Flora's fascination seemed to wane. Mrs. Jimmie never hadliked her, and as we went into the drawing-room she gave Cary one ofher rare and highly prized caresses, which Cary received gratefully. 

As for Artie, he never left Cary's side. He was the first to follow usto the drawing-room, for as I always let men smoke at the table, wealways leave it _en masse_. 

He said little, but he listened to every word Cary spoke, and hewatched her as if fascinated. 

I was jubilant, and my sober old Angel almost permitted himself to lookpleased, but not quite. The Angel is never reckless with his emotions. 

Dinner had been over about two hours, and Mrs. Jimmie was beginning tolook at the clock, when Aubrey approached and whispered:

"I haven't heard a sound in the kitchen since dinner, and Mary hasn'tentered the dining-room. Don't you think we would better take a lookat her?"

The kitchen was separated from the dining-room by only the butler'spantry. As we opened the swinging door, a figure holding achafing-dish in both hands attempted to rise from the cracker-box, butsank back again, shaking with laughter. 

"It's me, Boss dear! Don't look so scared, but I'm drunk as a fool. How many of them awful peaches did you eat, Missis?"

"Only one, " I said. 

"And you, Boss?"

"Only one. How many did you eat?"

"Only half a one, but I finished all the juice in the dish--"

"Juice!" I cried. "Why, Mary, that was brandy and kirschwasser, andtwo or three other things. "

"Don't I know it? But I never thought, Missis dear, I came here torubber at that fight between Miss Farquhar and the little blister--"

"Mary!"

"Not a word more, Missis dear, if you don't like it! But anyhow I camehere to--rest myself, and I began absent-mindedly to take a sip out ofthis big spoon here, and soon it was all gone. Then when you all wentinto the other room, I tried to get up, but my legs didn't want to, and, be the powers, they haven't wanted to since, though I've tried 'emevery two minutes or so. I've just set here, helpless as a new-bornbabe that can't roll over in its crib. I meant to flag the first oneof you that went past the door, for if somebody would prop me up infront of the sink, I could begin on a pile of dishes there big enoughto scare a dog from his cats. "

Aubrey and I leaned against each other in silent but hystericaldelight. Mary was deeply pleased to see us so diverted. 

Her legs recovered sufficiently before we left for her to walk to thesink, while we went back to our guests. 

Every one was leaving, and Artie was taking Cary home. I looked to seehow Flora took it, but her appealing blue eyes were fixed in their mostappealing way upon the Also Ran, who was plainly undergoing thrills ofexquisite torture therefrom. Jimmie gave one look at the tableau, andturned toward the door with his tongue in his cheek. 

After that curious evening, there seemed to be a tremendous emotionalupheaval. Artie hardly came near Flora, and when he did call, appearedto derive much satisfaction from gazing at her with a quizzical look inhis eyes which seemed to annoy her excessively. The Also Ran wasomnipresent, and was instant in season, out of season. But instead ofarousing Artie's jealousy, this seemed only to amuse him. 

Finally the cause of Artie's visits developed. He blurted it out tome one day with the red face of a shamed schoolboy. 

"Faith, I wish you'd do me the favour to ask Cary Farquhar here someevening, and let me know! I've been going there till I'm ashamed toface the butler, but I never can see her alone, and the last two timesshe has sent down her excuses, and wouldn't see me at all. "

I could have squealed for joy, but, mindful of Cary's dignity, I said:

"I don't believe she'd come, Artie. I'm afraid--"

"Afraid that she'd suspect that I would be here too? I don't believeI've made it as plain as that!" he interrupted. 

"Do you mean to say that you are really and truly--?"

"I mean just that, " he said, with a new earnestness in his manner, thatI never had noted before. 

"Oh, Artie!" I cried. "I'm _so_ glad! But what if she's--"

"Don't say it! It makes me cold all over to think of it. That's why Iwant you to ask her here. I've _got_ to see her. Why, Faith, she's--really, Faith, she's the _only_ girl in the world, now _isn't_she?"

"So I've thought for years!" I cried, warmly. 

"Talk about love being instantaneous, " said Artie, plunging his handsinto his pockets, and striding up and down. "I've loved her and lovedher _hard_ ever since she explained what love meant to her that nightat your dinner. Why, if I could get her to love _me_ that way, I'd bericher than John D! But shucks! She never will! What am _I_, I'dlike to know, to expect such a miracle?"

"You're very nice!" I stuttered, in my haste, "and just the man forher, both Aubrey and I think, but I'll tell you where the trouble is. She thinks you belong to Flora. "

"Never!" replied Artie, vehemently. "I never _thought_ of marryingFlora. She--well, she sort of appealed to me--you know how! Shewanted me to help her to understand golf. She said it made her feel soout of it not to know what people were talking about who played thegame--you know she was a poke at college, and didn't go in forathletics at all. Well, you can understand it when you look at her. _She_ couldn't get into a sweater and a short skirt and playbasket-ball, now could she? She'd be wanting some man always about tohold her things or pitch the ball for her. She is such a dependentlittle thing. Then she had always wanted to study law and her peoplewouldn't let her--don't blame 'em for it!--but she wanted me to helpher to understand it just for practice, she said, so I tried to. Butas to _marrying_ her! Well, to tell the truth--she--er--she doesthings--I mean, I think her emotions are a little too volcanic to suit_me_, and I'm no prude. 

"You'll tell Cary this, won't you, Faith? All but that last. Explainhow I came to get tangled up with the girl. You can do it so she won'tsuspect that you're working for me. You can bring it in casually, without bungling it. Tell her I never gave a serious thought to Florain my life. "

"I will, and I'll get her here for you!" I cried, as he rose to go. 

I followed him to the door, and as I closed it after him the door ofthe butler's pantry opened noiselessly, and there stood old Mary withher finger on her lip. She motioned me to precede her, and shefollowed me down the hall to my room and into it, carefully closing thedoor behind her. "Missis, " she whispered, kneeling down beside mychair. "Scold me! Do! I've been made the real fool of by that littleblister. Lord, if I wouldn't like to take her across my knee with afat pine shingle in my good right hand. Listen! She heard you at thetelephone, and knew you expected Mr. Beguelin this afternoon, so shecomes to me just after lunch and she says to me, 'Mary, Mr. Beguelin iscoming this evening, so I think I'll take a little nap on the couch ifyou'll cover me up with the brown rug. ' The brown rug, see? Just thecolour of the couch, and the one I always keep put away for the Boss. Of course I couldn't refuse after she said you said to give it to her--"

"I didn't, " I interrupted. 

"I know it. I know it now! But the little devil knew that I was goingout, and that you would answer the door yourself--"

"Mary!" I shrieked, in a whisper. "She wasn't in there all the time, was she?"

"That's just what she was! Listening to every word you said. I justcame in a minute ago, or I'd have let you know. But he got up to go, just as I had my hand on the door-knob. "

"What shall I do?" I murmured, distractedly. Then, after a pause, Isaid, "Perhaps she was asleep and didn't hear!"

Mary gave me such a contemptuous look that I hurriedly apologized. 

Then the Angel came in, and I told Mary to go, and then I told himeverything. He thought quite awhile before speaking. 

"Do you care for her very much, Faith dear?" he said, in his dear, gentle way. 

"If she has done the abominable thing that Mary says, I'll--hate her!I'll turn her out of the house!" I cried, viciously. 

"Ah!" said Aubrey, in a satisfied tone. He knows I wouldn't, but itdoes do me so much good to threaten to do the awful things I'd like todo if I were a cruel woman. 

He rose and left the room. I started to follow him, but he waved meback. 

"I won't be gone a moment. Wait for me here. "

I waited three or four years, and then, when I had grown white-hairedwith age, he came back. 

"Begin at the beginning, tell everything, and don't skip a word, " Idemanded. 

"Well, " he began, obediently. "She was sobbing gently--not for effectthis time. I went in softly, and asked her what the matter was. Shesaid she had been out all the afternoon to see a friend who had justbeen obliged to place her mother in a lunatic asylum, and she wascrying for sympathy. Then, as she saw me look at my rug, she said Maryhad left the rug out for her to take a nap early in the afternoon, andthat she had intended to, but had decided to go out instead. Now whatI object to is the style of her lying. I admire a good lie, but aclumsy, misshapen, rippled affair like that one is an abomination inthe sight of the Lord. "

I stood up with a flaming face. 

"Don't get excited, " said Aubrey. "She is going home to-morrow. Keepcalm to-night, and the next time you see Artie, he will relieve allyour feelings by what he will say. "

"Why? What does he know?"

"Well, the Also Ran admires athletic girls, you know, not being able tosit astride a horse himself, and through his boasting Artie hasdiscovered that Flora is a crack golf player--won the cup for hercollege in her junior year. "

I fell on the bed in a fit of hysterical laughter. 

"If that's the way you are going to take it, I feel that I can tell youthe worst, " said Aubrey, with a relieved face. "The fact is, I believethat that girl has a game on with the Also Ran. "

"Oh, _no_, Aubrey!" I cried. "I know that she is too desperately inlove with Artie to care about anybody else. She is so fascinating Ihave but one fear, and that is that Artie will come under her swayagain. If he does, Cary would never forgive it. "

"You are barking up the wrong tree, my dear, " said my husband. "It isfar more likely that Artie has already gone too far with Flora for Caryto forgive, and that's why she won't see him. "

At that, I tossed my head, for I felt that I knew how both Cary andFlora loved better than Aubrey did. Flattering myself, also, that Iknew men pretty well, I had my doubts about the strength of Artie'scharacter. It takes real courage for a man to be true to one woman, ifanother woman has pitted her fascinations against him. 

I intended to avoid Flora, but I found her lying in wait for me, andbeckoning me from the doorway. I went in, and at once, in order toseem natural, remarked upon her red eyes. But it seems that that wasexactly what she wanted me to do. The girl had no pride. She _wanted_me to pity her. 

"I'm ready to kill myself!" she cried. "I am perfectly sure that Artiehas only been flirting with me and that some one has come between us. You can't want Cary to have him, or why did you invite me here, andarrange for me to see so much of him, and try so hard to bring ustogether? You are not two-faced like that, I hope?"

I was too bewildered to speak. Yet how could I answer her questions?Before I left her, I was convinced that it was all my fault. I toldAubrey so. 

"Nonsense!" he said, quite roughly for him. "I think Mary's name forFlora is a good one. She is a little blister. "

"No, " I said, "she is not bad at heart. She is simply an impulsive, uncontrolled little animal, and more frank in her loves than most ofus. That's all. "

I saw the Angel set his lips together as if he could say something ifhe only dared, but his way of managing me is to give me my head and letcircumstances teach me. He never forces Nature's hand. 

Flora's visit was to have terminated the next day, but, to Aubrey'sintense disgust and my utter rout, she begged for just three days more, and before I knew it I had consented. As I hurriedly left the roomafter consenting, I turned suddenly and met her gaze. Her eyes were amere slit in her face, so narrowed and crafty they were. And the lookshe shot at me was a look of hatred. 

Too bewildered by this curious girl's inexplicable actions to try tounravel my emotions and come to a decision regarding her, I kept out ofher way all I could. I was simply waiting--waiting impatiently for thethree days to pass. I only hoped that Artie would not come again whileshe was here. 

But, alas, the very next morning I was at the telephone when I heardFlora run to the door to let somebody in, and before I could speak Iheard her say, in that surprised, complaining tone of hers, "Aren't yougoing to kiss me?" and then--well, I got up and slammed the door sohard that the key fell out. 

What a fool Artie was? What fools _all_ men were, not to be able tokeep faith with a woman, and such a woman as Cary Farquhar! I rushedfrom the study into my room, and burst into a storm of tears, in themidst of which Aubrey found me. 

"Poor little Faith! Poor, discouraged, little match-maker!" he said, smoothing my hair. But at that last I sat up and shook his hand off. 

"It's so _disgusting_ of him!" I stammered. "If you could have heardhim when he was talking about Flora!"

"How do you know it was Artie who came in?" said Aubrey, gently. 

I opened my mouth and simply stared at him. Then I went to the glass, smoothed my hair and straightened my belt. 

"Where are you going?" asked my husband. 

"I am going to _see_!" I exclaimed. "And if it _isn't_ Artie--if sheis kissing every man that comes into this house, I'll--I'll _kill_ her. "

"What! You'll kill her if you find that Artie is not the faithlesswretch you were crying about?"

"Oh, Aubrey! How _can_ you?" I cried. 

He tried to catch me as I flew past, but I eluded him, and startedfirmly down the long hall. But in spite of myself, my feet dragged. What was Flora attempting? Did she hate me as her look implied? Didshe love Artie as she declared, or was she simply endeavouring to getmarried, and so save herself from a life of teaching, which she openlydetested?

I kept on, however, goaded by my righteous indignation. To myastonishment I found, not Artie, but the Also Ran, with Flora franklyin his arms. 

They sprang up at my swift entrance, and the man had the grace to lookfuriously confused. Flora never even changed colour. I asked noquestions. I simply stood before them in accusing silence. But mylook was black and ominous. Flora gave one swift glance at myuncompromising attitude, and then, with a modesty and grace and sweetappealing humility impossible to describe, she came a step toward me, holding out her arms and saying, plaintively:

"Won't you congratulate me? We are engaged. "

I was struck dumb--that is, I would have been struck dumb, if I had notbeen rendered not only speechless, but unable to move by the actions ofthe man. Entirely unmindful of my presence, he sprang toward Flora, stammering, brokenly:

"Do you mean it, dear? Have you decided already? You said six months!You are sure you mean it?"

Then, not seeing the angry colour flame into Flora's pale, calm face, he turned to me, saying, brokenly:

"Oh, Mrs. Jardine! She has teased me so! I never dreamed she woulddecide so quickly. And I--you will forgive me! but I love her so!"

I looked away from his twitching face to Flora, and mentally resolvednever to call him an Also Ran again. He did not deserve it. I amseldom sarcastic, but I knew Flora would understand. 

"Flora, " I said, distinctly, "you are to be congratulated. "

Then I turned and left them. 

The very day that Flora left, Cary came back to me. 

"Well, " she said, tentatively, "what do you think of her?"

"Well, " I answered, cautiously, "I don't know. "

Cary looked at me in disgust. 

"Your loyalty amounts to nothing short of blindness and stupidity, " sheremarked, severely. "As for me, I am going to look at the nest theviper has left. "

So saying, she got up and went into the blue room, Aubrey and I meeklyfollowing. 

Pinned to the pillow was a note directed to me. Cary unpinned andhanded it to me. 

"Cleverest and best of women, " it began, "Many thanks for yourdelightful hospitality. I have enjoyed it to the full--far more, indeed, than you know. Look under the mattress of this bed and youwill understand. "

We tore the bed to pieces without speaking. Then Aubrey and Carylooked at each other and laughed. 

"_Now_ will you believe, " said Cary. 

There were cigarette-boxes full of nothing but butts and ashes. Therewere three of my low-cut bodices. There were some of Aubrey's ties anda number of my best handkerchiefs. 

I said nothing. I simply stared. 

"We all knew of these things, Faith dear, " said Aubrey, "but even ifyou had caught her wearing your clothes or smoking, we knew she wouldlie out of it, so we waited. "

"We knew she hated you so that she couldn't help telling you, " addedCary. 

"Hated me?" I murmured. "What for?"

Cary blushed furiously, and looked at Aubrey. 

"Has Ar-- Have you--" I stammered, eagerly. 

Cary nodded and Aubrey looked wise. Then Cary and I rushed for eachother. 

While we still had our arms around each other crying for joy, Maryappeared at the door with her apron filled with the neat little jars ofjellies and marmalades I had got for Flora's breakfasts. They had notbeen opened. Mary regarded me with grim but whimsical defiance. 

"The little blister never got a blamed one of 'em, Missis!" she said. 

CHAPTER VII

THE PRICE OF QUIET

Mr. And Mrs. Jimmie were among our frequent visitors in the newapartment. Jimmie can never realize that I am really married, and inview of our manifold travelling experiences together he regards theAngel with an eye in which sympathy and apprehension are mingled. 

His congratulations at the wedding were unique. "I'd like tocongratulate you, old man, " he said, wringing the Angel's hand, "buthonestly I think you are up against it. "

To me at their first call he said:

"What will you do with such a man--you, who have gone scrapping throughlife, browbeating gentle souls like myself into giving you your own wayon every point, and letting you ride rough-shod over us without aprotest? _He_ requires consideration and tact and a degree ofcourtesy--none of which you possess. And you can't drag him away fromhis writing to go to the morgue or a pawn-shop with you the way you didme in Europe. And most of all he must have quiet. Gee whiz! Therewill be hours together when you must hold your tongue. You'll die!"

"No, I won't, " I declared. "You don't know him. He is an Angel. " Andwith that the argument closed, for Jimmie went off into such a fit oflaughter that he choked, and his wife came in a fright to find mepounding him on the back with unnecessary force. 

"But why, " said Jimmie, when order had been restored, "did you take anapartment, when Aubrey's chief requirement is absence of noise!Furthermore, why do you live in New York, that city which reignssupreme in its accumulation of unnecessary bedlam?"

"Ah, we have thought of all those things, " I said, proudly. "First, weavoided a street paved with cobblestones. Second, we took the topfloor. Third, there are no houses opposite--only the Park. "

"But best of all, " said the Angel, speaking for the first time, asJimmie noted, "it is in the lease that no children are allowed, forchildren, after all, are the most noise-producing animals which exist. So if an apartment can be noise-proof--"

"Exactly, " cut in Jimmie. "If!"

"That's what I say--if it can, " said the Angel, "this one should proveso. Faith and I certainly took sufficient pains in selecting it. "

"Well, I don't want to discourage you, " said Jimmie, and then, afterthe manner of those who begin their sentences in that way, he proceededto discourage us in every sort of ingenious fashion which lay at hiscommand. Verily, friends are invaluable in domestic crises!

Nevertheless, his gloomy prophecies disturbed us. We tried to makelight of our fears--to pooh-pooh them--to pretend a scorn for Jimmie'sopinions, which in secret we were far from feeling, for the factremained that the Jimmies were experienced and we were not. "Living inan apartment, " Jimmie had declared, "is like driving. You may haveperfect control over your own horse, but you have constantly to fearthe bad driving of other people. "

These words kept ringing in our ears. We never forgot for a momentthat there were people under us. We crept in gently if a supper afterthe theatre kept us out until two in the morning. We never allowed thepiano to be played after ten in the evening nor before breakfast. Wegave up the loved society of our dog, and boarded him in the countrybecause dogs, cats, and parrots were not allowed. 

But day by day we found that each one of these self-inflicted maximswas being violated by all the other residents. Singing popular songs, a pianola, half a dozen fox terriers, laughing and shouting good nightsin the corridors kept us awake half the night, and worst of all, whatwe patiently submitted to as visitors with children, we, to our horror, discovered were residents with children, and children of the mostdetested sort at that. Five of these hyenas in human form lived belowus. Their parents were of the easy-going sort. They had all come froma plantation in Virginia, and they had brought their plantation mannerswith them. 

Now, ordinary children are bad enough, and even well-trained ones atthat, in the matter of noise, but the noises made by the Gottliebchildren were something too appalling to be called by the plain, ordinary word. They had never learned to close a door. They slammedit, and every cup and saucer on our floor danced in reply. When theirmother wanted them, she never thought of going to the room they were into speak to them. She sat still and called. They yelled back defiantnegatives or whining questions, and then the negro nurse was sent, andshe hauled them in by one arm, their legs dragging rebelliously on thefloor and their other arm clutching wildly at pillars or furniture todelay their reluctant progress. 

They had a piano, and all five of them took piano lessons. Out of thekindness of their hearts they invited the three children who livedopposite them on the same floor to practise on their piano, so thatfrom seven in the morning until nine at night we were treated tofive-finger exercises and scales. Their favourite diversion was a gamewhich consisted of the entire eight racing through their apartment, jumping the nursery bed, and landing against the wall beyond. They hadhardwood floors and no rugs. 

And the Angel must have quiet in which to write!

We discussed the situation, and resolved to take action. Move?Certainly not! We had done our best in taking this apartment, and wemodestly felt that our best was not to be sneezed at. We would makethe other people move, --the impertinent people who had dared to producechildren off the premises, and then to introduce them ready-made in anon-children apartment-house. Of course a landlord could not protecthimself against the home-grown article, so to speak, but he coulddefend both himself and us against articles of foreign manufacture, andso flagrantly, as evidenced by the names of these "made in Germany. "

Other noises which stunned us were remediable by other means. Forexample, the janitor of the apartment-house which stood next had apleasant little habit of three times a day emptying some dozen or moremetal garbage-cans in the stone-paved court, and as these with theirlids and handles merrily jingled back into place, a roar as if from aboiler factory rose, reverberating between the high buildings until, when it reached the sensitive ears of the Jardines, it createdpandemonium. 

At such times the Angel used to look at me in dumb but helpless misery. I tried bribing the janitor, but they changed so often I couldn'tafford it. Then, without a word to the Angel, I appealed to the HealthDepartment. I made a stirring plea. I set forth that not only ourhealth, but our lives (by which I meant our pocketbooks, because theAngel could not write in a noise), were threatened, and I imploredprotection. 

An Irishman answered. God bless soft-hearted, pleasant-spokenIrishmen! This one rescued us from a slow death by torture. He wasamenable to blarney. He got it. The result was that never again didany of the serial of janitors, which ran continuously next door, emptygarbage-cans in the court. 

Rendered jubilant by this victory, we confidently prepared to meet theagents of our building. But before we could arrange this, Considine, the novelist who had come to New York for the winter, called. He wasone of the Angel's dearest friends, and we greeted him with effusion. 

"I've come to say good-bye, " he said at once. "I'm off to-morrow formy farm. "

"For a visit?" I cried, unwilling to believe the worst. 

"No, for good. I'm done. I'm finished. New York has put an end tome!"

"Why, how do you mean?" we asked, in a breath. 

"The noise! The blankety, blankety, et cetera noise of this dittoditto town! The remainder of these remarks will be sent in a plain, sealed envelope upon application and the receipt of a two-cent stamp!"

The Angel and I looked at each other. We dared not speak. 

"How--why--" I faltered at last. 

It was all Considine needed--perhaps more than he needed--to set himgoing. 

"I came here under contract, as you know. I was behindhand in my work, but I hoped that the inspiration I would receive from the society of myfellow authors would give me an impetus I lacked in the country. ThereI often have to spur myself to my work. Here I hoped to work moresteadily and with less effort. Ye gods!" He got up and strode aroundthe apartment. "Ye gods! What fallacies we provincials believe! Iwas in heaven on my farm and didn't know it! And from that celestialparadise of peace and quiet and tranquillity of nature, I deliberatelycame to this--with a view of bettering my surroundings! When I thinkof it--when I consider the money I have spent and the time I havelost--" he stopped by reason of choking. 

"Why, do you know, " he began again, squaring around on the Angel, "I'vespent twenty thousand dollars on that apartment of mine, trying to makeit sound-proof so that I could make ten thousand by writing! I rentedthe apartment below me--had to, in order to get a fellow out whose sonwas learning the violin. I've bribed, threatened, enjoined, and at thelast a subway explosion of dynamite broke all the double windows andmirrors, knocked down my Italian chandeliers, and--people tell me Ihave no redress! Now they have started some kind of a drilling machinein the next block that runs all night, and I can't sleep. New York tolive in? New York to work in? Why, I'd rather be a yellow dog inLouisville than to be Mayor of New York!"

But before he could go the bell rang and Mr. And Mrs. Jimmie walked in, so then Considine came back for ten minutes, and stayed two hours. 

We told them what we had been discussing, and then we all tookcomfortable chairs. Cigars and tall glasses with ice and decanters andthings that fizz were produced, and, as Jimmie said, "we had such ahammerfest on the City of New York as the old town hadn't experiencedin many a long day. "

But then, when you come to think of it, didn't she deserve it?

In New York the elevated trains thundering over your head and darkeningthe street, surface electric cars beneath them being run at lightningspeed, the street paved with cobblestones over which delivery carts arebeing driven at a pace which is cruelty to animals, form a combinationof noises compared to which a battery of artillery in action is alullaby, and which I defy any other city in the world to equal. A hencrossing a country lane in front of a carriage, squawking andwild-eyed, is a picture of my state of mind whenever I have a street tocross. Yesterday there were two street-car accidents and one runaway, which I saw with my own eyes in an hour's outing, and I had no soonerlocked myself in my sixth-floor apartment with a sigh of relief atbeing saved from sudden death when a crash came in the street below, and by hanging out of the window I saw that an electric car had strucka plate-glass delivery wagon in the rear, upset it, smashed the glass, thrown the horse on his side, and so pushed them, horse, cart, and all, for a quarter of a block before the car could be stopped. I shriekedloud and long, but in the noise of the city no one heard me, and allthe good it did was to ease my own mind. 

New York is a good place to come to, to be amused, or to spend money, but as a city of terrific and unnecessary noises, there is not one inthe world which can compare to it. 

Scissors-grinders are allowed to use a bugle--a bugle, mind you, wellknown to be the most far-reaching sound of all sounds, and intended tocarry over the roar of even artillery, else why is it used in a battle?So this bugling begins about seven in the morning, and penetrates themost hermetically sealed apartments. Then the street-cleaners, the"White Wings, " garbage and ash-can men begin their deadly rounds, andthe clang of dashing empty metal cans on the stone-paved courts andareas reverberates between high buildings until one longs for thesilence of the grave. 

The noise and shock of blasting rock is incessant. They are blastingall along the Hudson shore and in Central Park. It sounds likecannonading, and the succession of explosions sometimes wakens onebefore dawn or after midnight with the frightened conviction that aforeign fleet is upon us to force us to reduce the tariff. Theblasting occasionally goes a little too far, and breaks windows orbrings down pieces of the ceiling. Last week it caved in a house andbroke some arms and legs of the occupants. One woman went intoconvulsions, and was rigid for hours from the shock, but as nobody waskilled no action was taken. 

Old clothes men are permitted a string of bells on their carts, whichall jangle out of tune and at once, while street-cries of alldescriptions abound in such numbers and of such a quality that I oftenwonder that the very babies trundled by in their perambulators do notgo into spasms with the confusion of it. 

Considine and I stated all this with some excusable heat while theAngel was serving our guests with what their different tastes demanded. It always gives me a feeling of unholy joy seeing Mrs. Jimmie trying tojoin her husband in his low pleasures. She regarded it as a religiousduty to take beer when he did while we were abroad, but in England andhere he takes whiskey and soda, so as champagne is not always on tap inpeople's houses, sometimes she tries to emulate his example. 

Have you ever seen anybody take cod-liver oil? Well, that is the lookwhich comes over Mrs. Jimmie's face when the odour of whiskey assailsher aristocratic nostrils. Nevertheless she valiantly sits the wholeevening through with her long glass in her hand. The ice melts and thewhole mess grows warm and nauseous, but she hangs on, sipping at itwith an air of determined enjoyment painful to see. If she did as shewould like, she would either hold her nose and gulp it all down at onceor else she would fling glass and all out of the window. 

In vain we all try to make it easy for her to refuse. If we don'toffer it she looks hurt, so the kindest thing we can do is to pretendwe notice nothing, and to let her believe that she is her husband'sboon companion, since that is her futile ambition. 

Jimmie crossed his feet, blew a cloud of smoke into the air, andcarried on the attack by saying:

"London, Paris, and Berlin all put together cannot furnish the noise ofNew York, while the roar of Chicago is the stillness of a cathedralcompared to it. And most of it, I may be allowed to state, is entirelyunnecessary. The papers are full of accounts of nervous collapses, thesanatoria are crowded, while I never heard as much about insanity inthe whole of my life elsewhere as I have heard in New York in one year. There is not a day in which the papers do not contain some mention ofinsane wards in the city hospitals, but people here are so accustomedto it, that no one except a newcomer like yourself would be likely tonotice it. "

Considine nodded. 

"I lay fully one-half of it to the incessant noises which prey uponeven strong nerves for nine months of the year without our realizingthem, " he said, "and these so work upon the nervous system that it onlytakes a slight shock to bring about a collapse, and then no weeks inthe country, no physic, no tonics can avail. It means a rest cure orthe insane ward. It is typical of our American civilization. NewYorkers are the most nervous people I ever saw. The children arenervous; little street urchins, who should not know what nerves are, tremble with nervous tension, while the exodus to the country on Fridaynights fairly empties the town. Everybody wants to 'get away from thenoise, ' and it is an undisputed fact that men who have no right toallow themselves the luxury take every Saturday as a holiday, so thatin many lines of business so many men are known to be out of town onSaturdays that business is practically suspended on that day except forroutine work. This is true to such an extent in no other city that Iknow of, and why? It is the noise. Distracted nature clamours for acessation of it, and the unfortunate who cannot afford the luxury mustpay the penalty. It is a question for the Board of Health. "

"Poor old chap!" said Jimmie. "It comes hard enough on us commonpeople, but how writing chaps like you and Aubrey stand it, I can'tsee. I should think you'd find New York the very devil to write in. "

"In some ways we do, " said the Angel, "but it has its compensations. For example, not even Paris is so beautifully situated as New York. The tall office buildings in the lower end of town look down upon riversights and shipping with a broad expanse of blue water and green shoreswhich a man would cross the ocean to see on the other side. The Hudsonbeautifies the West Side. Central Park is in my eyes the mostbeautiful park I ever saw. With its rocks and rolling greens, itstrees and wild flowers, it forms a spot of loveliness that makes in themidst of the hot, rushing, busy city a dream of soothing repose. Washington Heights is a crowning wilderness looking down upon the cityfrom Fort George, while the Sound and a glimpse of the village beyondseen through the faint blue haze of distance lend a touch of fairylikeenchantment. The Jersey shore and the Palisades are one long drawn outjoy, so that, turn where you will, you find New York beautiful. "

"Then, too, " said Mrs. Jimmie, speaking for the first time, "New Yorkis old, and say what you will you feel the charm of the established, and it gives you a sense of satisfaction to realize that you can'tdetect the odour of varnish and new paint. New York has got beyond it, and has begun to take on the gray of age. "

"The churches show this, " I cut in. "They are beautifulstepping-places in the rush of city life. They cool and steady, andtheir history and traditions form a restful contrast to the bustle ofthe marketplace. "

"But as to those who worship in these beautiful spots, " said Considine, "it is safe to say that church parade in Fifth Avenue is an evensmarter spectacle than church parade in Hyde Park, for American womenhave an air, a carriage, and a taste in dress which English women as arace can never acquire. In Hyde Park on Sunday morning, during theseason, one will see half a dozen beauties whose clothes are Parisianand the loveliness of whose whole effect almost takes the breath away, but the general run of the other women makes one want to close one'seyes. In America the average woman is lovely enough to make each oneworth looking at, while the word 'frump, ' which is continually usefulin England, might almost be dropped from the American language. 

"As to manners in New York, " he went on, "well, patriotic as I am, American manners in public in any city almost make me long for theoutward politeness and inward insincerity of the Gallic nations. Russians and Poles are the only ones I have observed to be alike bothin public and in private. In New York street-car etiquette or theetiquette of any public conveyance is something highly interesting fromits variety of selfishness and rudeness. "

"That is true, " I said, "New York manners are seldom aggressively rude, except on the elevated trains. In other cities you are pushed about, walked over, elbowed aside, and often bodily hurt in crowds of theirown selfish making. Not so in New York. Civilization has gone a stepfurther here. In surface cars men never step on you, but they gentlystep ahead of you and take the seat you are aiming for, and if they cansit sidewise and occupy one and a half seats, and if you beg two ofthem to move closer together and let you have the remaining space, thetwo men may rise, one nearly always does and takes off his hat and begsyou to have his place. Then all the eyes in the car are fixed onyou--not reprovingly, or smilingly, or in derision or reproach, butearnestly, as if you form a social study which it might be worth theirwhile to investigate. Never once during a year's observance ofsurface-car phenomena have I seen a row of luxuriously seated peoplemake a movement to give place to a new-comer, no matter how old or howwell gowned she may be. Even ladies will sometimes give their seats toeach other. But they won't 'move up. '"

"In Denver, " said Jimmie, "I once heard a conductor call out 'The gentswill please step forward and the ladies set closter. ' If I knew wherethat man was I would try to get him a position with the Metropolitan, for most of them feel as a conductor said here in New York when Ijumped on him for not obeying my signal, 'Schmall bit do _I_ care!'"

"Then the cars themselves, " I cried, "Aren't they the most awfulthings! I can earnestly commend the surface cars of New York as themost awkward and uncomfortable to climb in and out of that I have everseen. I use the word 'climb' advisedly, as the step is so high thatone must take both hands to hoist oneself, while the conductor isgenerally obliged to reach down and seize the ambitious woman by thearm to assist her. The bell rings while you are still on the lowerstep; the conductor says, 'Step lively, please;' the car attains itsmaximum of speed at one jump; the conductor puts his dirty hand on yourwhite silk back and gives you a forward shove, and you plunge into thenearest seat, apologizing to the people on each side of you for havingsat in their laps. Then comes a cry, 'Hold fast, ' and around a curveyou go at a speed which throws people down, and on one occasion I saw awoman pitched from her seat. 

"The Boston street railway system is the most perfect of any Americancity that I know of. There they pursue such a leisurely course that aBoston woman never rises from her seat until the car has come to a fullstop. In fact, Bee and I were identified as strangers in town by thehusband of our friend who met us at the terminus of one of thestreet-car lines, with his carriage. His never having seen us, andapproaching us without hesitation, naturally led us to ask how he knewus. He answered:

"'Oh, I saw you walking through the car before it reached the cornerand standing on the platform when it stopped, so I said to myself, "There they are!"'"

"I can easily believe you, " said Considine, "but in saying that theetiquette of any public conveyance in New York is interesting from itsvarieties of selfishness, oughtn't you to confine your statement tosurface-cars, elevated roads, and ferry-boats, and oughtn't you to makean exception of that dignified relic of antiquity, the Fifth Avenuestage? The most uncomfortable vehicle going, yet let me give the angelhis due--in a stage people do move up; everybody waits on everybodyelse; hands fare; rings for change, and pays all of the old-fashionedcourtesies which went from a busy city life with the advent of theconductor, the autocrat of ill manners and indifference. "

"Superstition evidently does not obtain in New York on one subject atleast, " said Aubrey, "and that is the bad luck supposing to accrue fromcrossing a funeral procession. Never in any other city in the worldhave I seen such rudeness exhibited toward the following of the dead totheir last resting-place as I have seen in New York. The beautifulcustom in Catholic countries not only of giving them the right of way, but of the men removing their hats while the procession passes, hasresolved itself into a funeral procession going on the run; the driverof the hearse watching his chance and fairly ducking between trucks andsurface-cars, jolting the casket over the tracks until I myself haveseen the wreaths slip from their places, and sometimes for five or tenminutes the hearse separated from its following carriages by aprocession of vehicles which the policeman at the crossing hadpermitted to interfere. Such a proceeding is a disgrace to our boastedcivilization. We are not yet too busy nor too poor to allow ourbusiness to pause for a moment to let the solemn procession of the deadpass uninterrupted and in dignity to its last resting-place. Suchconsideration would permit the hearse to be driven at a reasonably slowpace in keeping with the mournful feelings of its followers. As it isnow, New York funerals go at almost the pace of automobiles. "

"My brother once told me, " I said, "that I was so slow that some day Iwould get run over by a hearse. Not being an acrobat, that fate mayyet overtake me in New York and yet be no disgrace to my activity. "

"I am more afraid of automobiles, " said Considine, shaking his head, "than I am of what I shall get in the next world. I wouldn't own oneor even ride in one to save myself from hanging. I always 'screech, 'as Faith says, when my cab meets one. "

"You don't know how quickly they can be stopped, Considine, " saidJimmie. 

"That may be, " retorted Considine, "but are you going to pad yourbroughams and put fenders on your cab horses?"

"I was in an electric cab not long ago, " I said, "and a bicyclist rodedaringly in front of us. In crossing the trolley-tracks, his bicyclenaturally slackened a little, and my careful chauffeur brought themachine to a dead stop. Result that I was pitched out over thedashboard and barely saved myself from landing on my head. 

"When I was gathered up and put back I asked the man why he stopped sosuddenly (I admit that it was a foolish question, but as I am alwaysone who asks the grocer if his eggs are fresh, I may be pardoned forthis one), and he answered: 'Well, did you want me to kill that man?'I replied that of the two alternatives I would infinitely havepreferred to kill the man to being killed myself, --a reply which sooffended the dignity of my Jehu that he charged me double. I never didget on very well with cab-drivers. "

Jimmie laughed. He was remembering the time I knocked a Paris cabman'shat off with my parasol to make him stop his cab. My methods areinclined to be a little forceful if I am frightened. 

"But New York is a city of resources, " I continued. "There is alwayssomewhere to go! New York only wakes up at night and the streetspresent as brilliant a spectacle as Paris, for until the gray dawnbreaks in the sky the streets are full of pleasure-seekers; cabs andprivate carriages flit to and fro; the clubs, restaurants, andsupper-rooms are full to overflowing, the lights flare, and theceaseless whirl of America's greatest city goes on and on. And nobodyever looks bored or tired as they do in England. We are all having agood time, and we don't care who knows it. I love New York when it istime to play. "

"Well, we've about done up the old town to-night, " said Jimmie, as theyprepared to leave. "She has hardly a leg to stand on. "

"She deserves it, " said Considine, gloomily. "I'm off. I'm about todesert and go back to my cabbages. New York won't let you work. Shewon't help you. She won't protect you. She mocks you. She laughs inyour face. I'd rather die than try to work here!"

During every word of this impassioned speech the Angel and I had beengrowing colder and colder. We could see ourselves just where Considinehad found himself--driven out of New York by reason of its abominablenoise. 

"And the worst of it is, " went on Considine, "is that most of thisnoise is so unnecessary. It comes from--"

A terrific crash came from down-stairs. Three doors slammed. Thensome one screamed shrilly. Considine gazed with starting eyes at thejingling globes and glasses and actually lost a little colour. 

"What is it?" he whispered. 

"It is nothing, " said the Angel, with a wave of the hand, "but ourlittle friends below stairs. Our neighbour is blessed with fivecharming little olive-branches, who have versatile tastes in athletics, and are bubbling over with animal spirits. We think privately thatthey are the meanest little devils that ever cursed an apartment-house, but their noise is dear to their parents, and they would not allow itwhen we fain would boil the children alive or beat them with bed-slats. "

Jimmie laughed heartlessly, but Considine took his head between hishands. 

"They have just illustrated what I was going to say. Nobody has anyregard for the rights of others. Peddlers are allowed horns, andcornets, and strings of bells. Why not allow them to send up poisonedballoons to explode in your open windows, and thus call attention totheir wares? I wouldn't object a bit more! Why do parents allow suchnoises? Have you ever remonstrated with the mother?"

"Oh, yes, " said the Angel. "One day Faith called and apologized toMrs. Gottlieb, but begged to know if she might not take the childrenout herself in order to let me finish a chapter. But Mrs. Gottlieb wasjustly incensed at any one daring to object to the healthful sports ofher little brood, and said: 'Mrs. Jardine, my children are in their ownapartment, and I shall allow them to make all the noise they wish. '"

"And the next day, " I broke in, excitedly, "she bought the three girlstin horns and the boys drums!"

Considine ground his teeth. 

"If our wicked ways of life demanded that each of us should bear somehorrible affliction, but Providence had mitigated the sentence byallowing us to choose our own form of mutilation, " he said, slowly, "instead of giving up an arm or a leg or an eye, I would give up bothears and say, 'Lord, make me deaf!' For, much as I love music and thesound of my friends' voices, I believe that I could give up allconversation, and for ever deny myself to Grieg and Beethoven andWagner rather than stand the daily, hourly torture of the street soundsof a great city. "

He looked around at us and real tears stood in his eyes. 

"Do you know, " said the Angel, answering the look in his friend's eyes, "I believe no one on earth understands the anguish those of us whocompose suffer from noise. It is not nervousness which causes us thisanguish. It is the creating spirit, --the power of the man who bringswords to life in literature or who brings tones to life in music. Itis part of the artistic temperament, and if I ever saw a child startand shake and go white at a sudden noise, I should lay my hand on thelittle chap's head and say to his mother: 'Take care of that child'sbrain, for in it lies the power of the creator of something great. Teach him above everything self-expression that he may not labour astoo many do, yet labour in vain. '"

I loved Considine for the way he looked at my Angel after that speechand the way he moved toward him and took his hand in his big, soft, strong grip. 

"I can't stand it!" he declared, standing up. "I'm going. I wouldn'tlive in New York if they'd give me the town. I'm going back to my fivehundred acres and get in the middle of it with a revolver, and I'llshoot anything that approaches!"

But when they had all gone something like dismay seized us. 

"He has so much more money than we have, " I wailed, "and if _he_ can'tdo anything where do we come in, I'd like to know!"

The Angel paced up and down thoughtfully with his hands behind hisback, --an attitude conducive to deep meditation in men, I have observed. 

"I think I have it, " he said, finally. "Considine is too impulsive. He was not firm enough. Now I got an important letter from the agentsto-day, saying that they could do nothing about the noise of thechildren. In the lease it expressly mentions them. I shall simplyhold back the rent and see what that produces!"

I was filled with admiration at the Angel's firmness. 

The result was speedily produced, such as it was. Jepson called. Hecalled often. Then we began to get letters, and finally theythreatened us with eviction. It made me feel quite Irish. 

Then one day the owner and the agents and their lawyer called, and wediscussed the matter. They were affable at first, but as the noisefrom the Gottlieb apartment grew more boisterous, their suavitydeparted, for they realized that our grievance was a substantial one, yet they declared they could do nothing. 

"But it is in the lease, " we protested. Then they delivered themselvesof what they really had come to say. 

"My dear sir, " said the owner, "that lease and those rules can never beenforced in this city. They simply don't hold--that's all. "

"Very well, " I said, triumphantly. "If the clauses upon which we tookthe apartment do not hold, then neither does the clause regarding thepayment of the rent obtain. "

They all three broke in together with hysterical eagerness:

"Ah, but that does hold. You must know that, madam. "

"The rent clause is the only clause which the law backs up, is it? Wehave no redress against your getting us here under false pretences?"

They looked at each other uneasily. Then their masculinity asserteditself. What? To be thus browbeaten by a woman? They lookedcommiseratingly at the Angel for being saddled with such a wife. 

They stood up to go. I looked expectantly at Aubrey. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, quietly. "You have heard the noises from thesurrounding apartments to-day, and you have admitted that they wereextraordinary. I declare them not to be borne. If then, you cannotmitigate the nuisance, this apartment will be at your disposal from thefirst of February. "

They smiled patronizingly. The lawyer even laid his hand on theAngel's shoulder. He should have known better than that. 

"My dear fellow, " he said, benevolently. "You are liable for the wholeyear's rent--until next October. You will see by your lease. "

Aubrey shook his hand off haughtily. 

"Provided the lease is signed, " he said, quietly. "Will you gentlemenhave the goodness to find my signature on this lease? I haven't evenreturned it to your office. "

They examined it with dropped jaws. They had not even the strength tohand it back to him. Between them it fell to the floor, --the leasewhose only binding clause was the one regarding the payment of the rent. 

"From the first of February, " repeated the Angel, politely. 

"But my dear sir, " protested the lawyer, recovering first. "Let us seeif we cannot adjust this little difficulty. You sign the lease, for wecannot rent such an apartment as this in midwinter. We would loseeight months' rent if you gave it up now, and I will myself personallysee Mr. Gottlieb in regard to his children's noise. It really isabominable. "

"We shall move this month, " said Aubrey. "From the first of Februarythis apartment is yours. "

"You are very stiff about it, " said the owner. "Why not be reasonable?"

"I am perfectly reasonable, " said Aubrey, gently. "I have listened foran hour to the justice you administer to a tenant with a signed lease. My reason is what is guiding me now. "

He rose as he spoke and moved toward the door. 

They glared at us both as they went out. 

Aubrey sat and figured for a few moments in silence. 

"It has cost us quite a little, " he said at last, "to learn that suchas we cannot live in New York. We will go into the country where theright to live, and to live this side of insanity, is guaranteed, not bya lease, but by the exact centre of five acres of ground. "

"I have always wanted to!" I cried, with enthusiasm. "We will becommuters. "

"We will commute, " said Aubrey, pausing to let the fire-engines go by, "when necessary. "

CHAPTER VIII

MOVING

So we began our search for the Quiet Life and the spot wherein to liveit. It must be out-of-town, yet not so far but that the Angel and Icould get to town for an occasional feast of music or the theatre. 

We asked those of our friends who were commuters to exploit the gloriesof their own particular towns, but to our minds there was always someinsuperable objection. 

So one day I took down the telephone-book and looked over the names ofthe towns. Jersey was tabooed on account of its mosquitoes, and bothAubrey and I cared nothing for the seashore. But the Hudson, with itsbeauty and the delight of its hills rising in such a profusion ofloveliness back of it, seemed to draw us irresistibly. 

"Anything within an hour of New York, " said Aubrey. 

The telephone-book should answer. I resolved to read until I got a"hunch. " That is not good English, but with me it is good sense, whichis better. 

Finally I found a number--97 Clovertown--Bucks, Miss Susan. PeachOrchard. The hunch was very distinct. I could fairly see mynote-paper with Peach Orchard, Clovertown, stamped on it, for Iinstantly made up my mind that Susan must be asked to rent PeachOrchard for a term of years and go abroad. I felt sure that Europewould do her good. The more I thought of these names, the more sure Ifelt that we had arrived. 

My next step was to look feverishly through the Clovertown names for areal estate agent. I found one, and without saying a word to theAngel, I called him up. 

"Hello, Central. Give me Long Distance. Hello, Long Distance. Giveme sixty-five Clovertown, please! Yes! All right. Is this Close andMurphy? Well, this is New York. I want to ask you if Peach Orchard isto let. What? I say, I would like to know if Miss Bucks would like tolet Peach Orchard? She would? Well, how large is it? Four? Oh, five? Is there a good house on the place? And a stable? That's nice. I see. Yes. Well, I would like to see it to-day if I could, but it issnowing here. Not snowing there? Well, we might try. What time doesa train leave 125th Street? In forty minutes? Well, my husband and Iwill be on that train. Oh, that's very nice. Our name is Jardine--Mr. And Mrs. Aubrey Jardine. Yes, I understand. Very well. Good-bye. "

I hung up the receiver, and rushed into the dining-room. 

"Hurry with luncheon, Aubrey!" I said. "I've rented a place inClovertown, and we go out to take possession to-day. We leave in fortyminutes!"

Aubrey looked up with interest. 

"I heard you at the telephone. You are a crazy little cat, " he said, but I could see that he was charmed. We love to do crazy things. 

"He's going to meet us at the station with a carriage, " I explained asI struggled into my coat with Mary's help, and Aubrey pawed madlyaround in the dark closet for overshoes for both of us. 

Mary flew about like a distracted hen until she saw us safely started. Most people would have gone mad at our erratic proceedings, but nothingever disturbed Mary's equanimity. In fact, crises fairly delightedher. In an emergency she rose to the heights of Napoleon. 

Finally we started, caught the train, and arrived. The gallant Mr. Close met us, true to his word, and in five minutes we were on our wayto Peach Orchard. 

As we drove into the grounds, Mr. Close clapped his hand to hisforehead with an exclamation. 

"What is it?" I said, with a sinking heart. 

"I've forgotten the key!"

"Never mind, " I said, blithely. "We can easily get in through awindow. My husband used to be a burglar. "

It never occurred to me that the poor man would take such an idioticremark seriously, so we neither of us looked at him until we hadexamined every door and window to find if haply one had been leftunlocked. Nor did we notice that we were doing all the work untilAubrey selected the back hall window as the loosest, and opening hisknife--the wickedest looking pocket-knife I ever saw, by the way--heproceeded deftly to turn the lock of the window and then to raise it. 

I was so proud of his cleverness that I turned to ensure the admirationof Mr. Close also, but the look I encountered froze the smile on mylips and the words on my tongue, for the good man was viewing bothAubrey and me with the liveliest horror and distrust. 

Aubrey turned also at my sudden silence, and the light dawned upon usboth in the same instant. 

Mr. Close had the grace to look quite sheepish to see us both sit downabruptly on the top step and shriek with laughter. But I am sure, inmy own mind, that he dismissed the idea of burglars in favour oflunatics. 

But Peach Orchard was well named, for the old house was set down in thevery midst of it. Trees were everywhere, and, indeed, they grew soclose to the house, and they were so tall, that we could not see thehouse properly. The short winter afternoon was drawing to a close andit looked for a moment as if we would have to come again, when on ashelf, good Mr. Close, whose business instincts were keener than hissense of humour, found an old lamp with about three inches of oil init. A feverish search for matches resulted in the discovery that hismatch-box was empty, and Aubrey's held only one. 

Right here, let me ask just one question of all the smokers all overthe world. Why is it, that, needing them more than you need anythingelse on earth, --home or friends or wife or mother or money or positionor religion or your hope of heaven, --why is it that you never have anymatches?

Aubrey's one, which he had been saving, as he told me afterward, tolight a cigarette on the return drive, proved friendly, and the lampsmoked instead. Armed with this rather unsatisfactory torch, weexplored, and as we went up and down, in and out of the queer oldplace, built a hundred years ago (Mr. Close said!), we decided to takeit, and most unwisely said so, thereby paying, as usual, the top pricefor something which we could have got at a bargain if we had waited. But such is the perennial foolishness and precipitancy of the Jardines. 

Evidently Mary had humoured our going out to Clovertown that afternoonas one of our mad excursions only, and had not fathomed the possibilityof our deciding to live there, for when we came home and gailyannounced that we had rented Peach Orchard, Mary's jaw fell and her lippouted sulkily. 

This lasted during dinner. We could both see that she intended us tonotice it and question her, and when the coffee had been served and wesaid she might go, she saw that she must open the ball herself, so shefingered her apron and said:

"Missis, I shall be sorry not to go with you to Clovertown, but of allthe towns along the Hudson, that is the one I can't bear to go to!"

"Why, Mary?" I said, for the first time in my life suspecting her ofthe tricks which we afterward came to know were a part of her. 

"Because my oldest sister was killed by the railroad right at thestation at Clovertown, and I was the one to take her away!"

For about the ten thousandth time Mary held the trump. I felt crushed. I could fairly picture the scene, and I knew that no one could facesuch harrowing memories. As I gazed at her and she saw I was touched, tears began to gather in her eyes, brim over and run down her pinkcheeks. I felt fairly faint and sick to think of parting with Mary. 

Then something told me to probe the matter. 

"When was your sister killed, Mary?" I said. 

"Just twenty-two years ago come Washington's Birthday, Missis dear, "whimpered Mary, with her apron at her eye. 

I began to laugh heartlessly. 

"And wasn't that the sister you fought with and hated--the one you havetold me a dozen times you were glad to know was dead?" I went on. 

Mary nodded, rather sheepishly. I saw she was weakening, so I becamefirm. 

"Now, Mary, " I said, and it was the first time I ever had spokensternly to her, "put that apron down, and don't let me hear anotherword about your not going to Clovertown. Of course you are going! Anygrief, no matter what, could be cured in twenty-two years, --let alone agrief which never was a grief. And you did _not_ see her after she wasdead--you told me you wouldn't go. And what made you the maddest washaving to pay the funeral expenses when she had a husband who couldhave paid them if he would only work. So now, you can just stop thoseonion tears, " I said, marching haughtily toward the door, followedsomewhat sheepishly by the Angel, who longed to turn back and mitigatemy sternness. 

The longing finally conquered him. 

"Besides, Mary, " he said, pacifically, turning back at the door, "wecouldn't possibly get along without you. You are absolutely necessaryto us. Who, I ask you, would do up my white waistcoat and ducktrousers if _you_ left?"

Mary beamed at this seductive flattery, and bridled visibly. 

"Tell me all about it, Boss dear, " she said. 

And in so doing she and we both forgot that she had suggested going, and nothing more was ever said about it. 

Seldom can I look back, however, and recall an instance when weobtained more feverish and thrilling joy than from those next few dayswhen we mentally improved and furnished Peach Orchard. 

With what excitement did we lay rugs and place furniture in our mind'seye! How we appealed frantically to each other to decide whether therewere three or four windows in the library, and with what complacencydid we discover that, owing to a shrewd forethought of my own infurnishing the smoking and living rooms in our apartment with similarcurtains, we now had enough for the great, light, airy sitting-room atPeach Orchard. 

Then we took a long breath and fell with fresh avidity into the subjectof improvements. Mr. Close was of the opinion that Susan would donothing--could do nothing rather, as she had a consumptive brother whomust live in the Adirondacks, and her resources were few. Therefore, we recklessly decided that if she would give us an option on the placefor another year, we would make the improvements ourselves. Fools!

Yet why fools! Never have we so enjoyed spending money, and as AnthonyHope says that "economy is going without something you want, for fearthat sometime you'll want something which probably you won't want, " wefelt upheld and strengthened in the knowledge that we were never, byany means, economical. 

But the Angel was prospering. Those who frankly predicted that wewould starve or be divorced were now glad to sit at our well-set tableand smoke the Angel's good cigars and sip his excellent wines. Andfeeling that we might branch out a _little_, we promptly branched out agreat deal, and nearly went to smash in consequence. 

But God watches over children and fools, and we were saved, and spedupon our way in a manner so like a special dispensation of Providencethat no lesson was learned to teach us to be more careful next time. In fact, it encouraged us in our recklessness, for in our darkest hourthe Angel's first play was accepted, and, being staged, was soinstantaneously a success that he gave up novels altogether and beganto devote himself to the drama. He devoted to it, I mean to say, allthe time he could spare from the improving of Peach Orchard. 

Those days, the first of our prosperity and the first of ourhousekeeping in a real house, were the happiest we had ever known. Susan had been persuaded to let the place for a term of years with anoption to buy, so we felt as if we owned it already. But that is apeculiarity of the Jardines. 

We tore out the old plumbing, we put in two new bathrooms. We made alaundry out of the storeroom. We cut doors and threw rooms togetherwhich never had associated before, and we turned all the windows whichgave upon the porches into doors, so that we could step out-of-doors atwill. We ordered our porch screened entirely, and planned to furnishit as a study for Aubrey. We put paper-hangers, painters, gas, telephone, and electric men at work all over the house, and made thempromise, yea, even swear, to finish their work by a certain time. 

But, having, as we thought, learned wisdom by experience, we put nofaith in their promises, but engaged Mr. Close in person to go everyday to superintend things. 

As the day drew near to move we became most agitated as to ways andmeans. It seemed a gigantic task to crate and barrel everything andmove from one town to another, and while we discussed hiring a car, Mary interrupted. 

"Excuse me, Boss and Missis dear, for putting in my two cents, but yousurely aren't thinking of sending all the furniture by freight, whenvans are so much more convenient?"

"Vans?" we cried. "Will vans move us thirty miles?"

"Fifty, if you like, " said Mary, promptly. 

"From one town to another?"

"From one State to another, and without taking the pins out of thecushions or the sugar out of the bowls. "

At once the idea of the sugar-bowls and pincushions fascinated me. Ibegged Aubrey to investigate, and he agreed with enthusiasm to do itthe very next day. 

"If I might suggest, " said Mary again, "all Boss will have to do is totelephone to two or three different companies to come and estimate thecost. He won't have to run after 'em any farther than the telephone. "

We followed her suggestion, and to our delight discovered that all shesaid was true and more. They agreed to insure against breakage, thieves, and fire; to pack all the stuff in vans one day, take them totheir warehouse for the early part of the night, and start at oneo'clock for Clovertown, --agreeing to make the whole distance, unload, place the furniture, and unpack the china before leaving that night. 

We need not lift a hand. All we had to do was to go to a hotel for onenight, and take a train for Clovertown the next morning. 

It was almost too easy. I reflected what "moving" meant to people wholive in small towns where such conveniences do not exist. Verily, NewYork might be noisy, but she was a city of superb conveniences. OnlyParis excels her in her purveying shops, for in Paris one can buy thewing of a chicken only, and that just around the corner, while in NewYork one must buy at least the whole fowl (and pay the price of a houseand lot in Louisville, let me pause to remark!), but in justice I mustalso add that such luxuries are also "just around the corner. "

By implicitly following Mary's advice we saw everything safely placedin the vans and move majestically from our door. Then we betookourselves to the Waldorf, with our "glad rags, " as Jimmie hadcommanded, in our suit-cases, and dined in state, and went to Weber andFields afterward. Jimmie wanted me to hear Weber persuade LillianRussell to invest in oil. 

Now at that, the Angel and Mrs. Jimmie simply smiled indulgently. While Jimmie and I reeled in our seats and clutched each other'ssleeves and shrieked (in as ladylike a manner as we could), while tearspoured down our cheeks and our ribs cramped and our breath failed. That is the way Jimmie and I enjoy things. That is also why we canstand it to travel in the same party, and not come home hating eachother. 

But all the time, even in the midst of the fun, my mind turned lovinglytoward the warehouse where our precious furniture reposed, safelypacked in those huge red vans. 

Jimmie noticed my preoccupation, and said:

"If you could take your mind off coal-scuttles long enough, I wouldlike to ask you what you thought of Prince Henry? Aubrey says you methim last week. "

"We did, we met him the same day we bought the ice-box, " I answered. 

"Ye gods!" growled Jimmie, in deep disgust. "Think of remembering aroyal prince by the day you bought the ice-box!"

"What most impressed you, dear?" inquired Mrs. Jimmie, sweetly. 

"The price!" I answered, cheerfully. "It was a slightly damagedarticle, so we got it for less than half the original cost of it. Youknow I do love a bargain, Mrs. Jimmie. "

"I meant the prince, dear, " said Mrs. Jimmie. 

"However, if she prefers to discuss ice-boxes, " said Jimmie, politely, "by all means, let us bring the conversation down to her level. Itwill not be the first time I have had to do it. "

"I don't care!" I said, stoutly. "It was far more interesting thanseeing the prince. This, you must remember, was our _first_ ice-box. The other one was built into the apartment, and we didn't own it. "

"I do wish Bee could hear you!" jeered Jimmie. "Gee, but you will be atrial to Bee. "

"I always have been, " I said. "She got mad at me just before I wasmarried about a thing as foolish as anything _I_ ever heard of. I hadcalls to pay, and I asked Bee to go with me. She said she'd go if I'dget a carriage, so I said I would, and told her to order it. But itseems that all the good ones were engaged for a funeral, and they sentus a one-horse brougham with the driver not in livery. We didn'tnotice it until we opened the front door. Then Bee sailed in. 'Whyare you not in livery?' she demanded. 'I shall certainly report you toMr. Overman. He ought to be ashamed to send out a driver without alivery!' 'If you please, ma'am, ' said the man, 'I'm Mr. Overman, andrather than disappoint you ladies, as all my men are out, I thought I'ddrive you myself. ' Well, that was too much for even Bee. So shethanked him, and in we got. The first house we went to was that of ahaughty society dame of whose opinion Bee stood much in awe. Personally, I thought her an illiterate old bore. She was newly rich, and laid great emphasis upon such things as maids' caps, while tuckingher own napkin under her chin at dinner. She followed us to the doorin an excess of cordiality which amused me, considering everything, andthere, to our horror, we saw poor old Overman half-way under the horse, examining one of its hoofs! Poor Bee! I gave one look at her face andgiggled. That was enough. She was so enraged that she wouldn't payanother call. She took me straight home as if I were a bad child, andthe next day I paid my calls alone. "

"And yet, " said Jimmie, musingly, "can you or any of us ever forget thenight that Bee did the skirt dance in Tyrol?"

"Dear Bee!" said Mrs. Jimmie, softly. "How charming she is!"

"Yet she wouldn't approve of your going to Clovertown, " said Jimmie. "She hates the bucolic. Idyls and pastorals are not in it with our ruede la Paix Bee. I'll bet she will never come to see you at PeachOrchard. "

"Let us hope for the best, " said Aubrey. "It is dangerous to prophesy. "

"We're going to keep a cow, Jimmie!" I said, rapturously. 

"Well, don't gurgle about it. You act as if keeping a cow put thestamp of the Four Hundred on you. Did Mary say you might?"

"Mary has given her consent, " said Aubrey. "But I'm wondering how thatold woman will behave with other servants. Of course she was all rightwhile there was no one else and she was boss of the ranch, but we musthave two or three now at Peach Orchard, and she is so jealous, I wonderif she will let us live with her!"

Well might we have wondered. Trouble began the very next day. As wewent out on the train I noticed that Mary had on her best dress andhat. She had no bag with her, so I wondered how she meant to "settle"in such clothes. The Angel and I had on our worst. 

I comforted myself with the reflection that there would not be verymuch dirty work to do. This would in reality be a kid-glove moving, for Mr. Close had telephoned the day before that everything was readyfor us to move in. I had even sent a cleaning woman for floors andwindows. 

I had taken the precaution to bring a few silver knives, forks, andspoons in my bag. Then as we got off the train I stopped at a groceryand bought a loaf of bread, a tin of devilled ham, one of sardines, some butter, and a dozen eggs, so we were at least sure of our luncheon. 

We jumped out of the carriage almost before it had stopped, and, whileAubrey paid the man, I ran up the steps and into the house. 

Such a sight of confusion met my eyes! The old paper was piled in themiddle of each floor, and not a new strip on any wall. One ceilingonly in the whole house was finished. Not a hardwood floor had beenlaid. The lumber was piled in the hall. Not a chandelier was up. Theragged wires projected from their various holes in ceilings and walls. Where was my cleaning woman? Where were our workmen? Above all, wherewas the perfidious Mr. Close?

There was no furnace fire, and the water was not turned on. I ran backand Aubrey shouted for the carriage, just turning out of the grounds, to come back. 

"Go to the plumbers!" I said, incoherently, "and to the electric lightmen, and to the agents, and see where the men are, and bring somebrooms and buckets and send me a grocer's boy. "

He turned away, breathing vengeance. I felt sorry for Mr. Close. 

"And to the telephone company!" I cried, after the departing carriage. 

"And to--" but the driver lashed his horses, and I had to give up. 

I went back to Mary in her best dress. 

"Finished, is it?" she said, sniffing with indignation. "I suppose theagent thought we were flies, and could move in on the ceiling--asthat's the only thing I can see about the house that's finished!"

"Wait until Mr. Jardine sees the agent!" I said, ominously. "Thensomething else will be finished, besides the ceiling. "

"I hope he'll kill him!" said Mary, pleasantly. 

It was a real pleasure to witness the dismay in Mr. Close's face whenAubrey returned, bringing him, mentally, by the scruff of the neck. Ihave seen terriers yanked back to look at things they have "worried" inmuch the same manner that Mr. Close was fetched to Peach Orchard. 

"Just look, Mr. Close, if you please, " I said, ominously polite. "Youtelephoned me yesterday and said you had been here personally and seenwith your own eyes that everything was finished and the house inperfect readiness for us to move in. "

Mr. Close refused to meet my accusing eye. He turned green. 

There are more ways than one of calling a man a liar. And some aresafer than others. 

"Did you really have the smoke test put through the plumbing as yousaid you did?" I asked. 

Mr. Close eagerly produced the bill. 

Plumber's bills are conclusive evidence. 

"Did you have the range cleaned and the water-back examined?" demandedAubrey. 

Mr. Close swore that he did. Aubrey led him captive around the houseand showed him the confusion thereof, Mary grimly following. I thinkClose preferred Aubrey to me, and me or anybody to Mary, for Mary'svery spectacles were bristling with anger. She could see herself, inher best dress, having to clean up that mess so that the furniturecould be moved in. 

Then Aubrey's men began to arrive. The man with the chandeliers. Thecarpenters to lay the floors. The man from the water office. My negrocleaning woman and the grocer's boy. Fortunately, the cleaning womanhad brought a broom, a mop, and a bucket. 

As there were no fires, Aubrey and Mr. Close made one in the furnace;Mary and the grocer's boy--or rather the grocer's boy under Mary'sdirection--built one in the range, while I set the woman to sweepingone floor for the carpenters to begin on. 

Suddenly I heard hurried feet running up the cellar stairs. The waterman had turned the water on from the street, and it was gaily pouringinto the cellar. Mr. Close is a fat man, but he ran like a jack-rabbitto that water main, and shut it off. Then without daring toface--Mary, he started to town for a plumber. 

He had not been gone half an hour when the water-back blew up. Fortunately, no one was in the kitchen at the time, but the cleaningwoman turned from black to a dirty gray with fright, and withoutfurther ado went home. I can't say that I blamed her. Aubrey was busyputting out the furnace fire and bailing out the cellar, so he did notknow of that defection. 

However, a culmination of such calamities, instead of smiting me to theearth, aroused every drop of fighting blood in my whole body. 

I went out on the porch to think it over, and as I thought I began tolaugh. I laughed until Aubrey heard me and thought I was crying. Hecame hurrying out, with a face full of anxiety, saying, before he sawme:

"Never mind, dear! I know this is hard on you, but--"

"Well, I'll be--!"

Both of those remarks were Aubrey's. He was much relieved, however, todiscover that I was not cast down by all these disasters. In fact, ourmoving partook more of the delights of camping out than orthodoxhousekeeping, and I soon discovered expedients. 

The only fire which did not bid fair to blow our heads off was one inthe grate in the hall. On this we boiled water and made tea, and forthat first luncheon we satisfied ourselves with sardines and devilledham sandwiches. But as we were obliged to cook on that grate for sixdays, I may as well record now that we grew into expert cooks, attempting eggs in all forms, batter-cakes, hoe cakes, fried mush, bacon, ham, chops, toast, and fried potatoes, --in fact, no woman knowshow much she can cook on a common little hard coal grate until threehungry people are dependent on it for three meals a day. 

We supplemented this by the chafing-dish. Aubrey says that I shouldsay the grate fire supplemented the chafing-dish, for nobody knows whatcan be done with one--in real, urgent housekeeping, I mean, such asours, until one has tried. It makes a perfect double boiler, and asfor a _bain Marie_, well, I used to cream potatoes in the top part, andwhen they were all done but the simmering of the cream to thicken it, Iused to put tomatoes in the bottom part to stew, and put the potatopart back on the tomatoes for a cover and to keep hot. Did you evertry that?

The kitchen range was discovered to be ruined, the pipes beingcompletely full and solid with rust. It is a miracle that some of uswere not killed by the explosion. Mary cheerfully declared her regretthat Mr. Close had not been bending over the stove with his lie in histhroat when the water-back remonstrated. Mary is quite firm in herideas of making "the punishment fit the crime--the punishment fit thecrime. "

But we enjoyed it--that is, Aubrey and I enjoyed it. Mary wanted us togo to an hotel and stay until things were in order, and send the billto Mr. Close. But even though her suggestion was made at two o'clockin the afternoon and no vans had yet appeared, I was firm in mydecision to sleep in Peach Orchard that night. 

My courage had in the meantime been buoyed up by the fact that thetelephone had been put in, and my friend, the grocer's boy, had broughtme reinforcements in the shape of plates, tumblers, pots, pans, brooms, buckets, and supplies, and had further completed my rapture bypromising me a kitten. 

About three o'clock, I, as lookout, descried the big red vans, eachdrawn by four horses, at the foot of the hill. 

Now Clovertown is not full of hills, rather it consists of hills. Itis not quite as bad as Mt. St. Michel, for that is all one, butClovertown consists of a series of small Mt. St. Michels, equallysteep, precipitous, and appalling to climb, also equally lovely andbewitching when once you have climbed. 

The moving men seemed to realize their steepness, for they put alleight of the horses to one van and bravely started up the hill. Butalas, they were New York horses, and only capable of dodging elevatedpillars and of keeping their footing on icy asphalt. They were notused to climbing trees, as we afterward discovered Clovertown horses tobe quite capable of doing. So, after straining and pulling and beingcruelly urged to a feat beyond their strength, we had our first tasteof the neighbourliness of the people on the next estate. Their headman, called familiarly Eddie Bannon, came to our rescue. 

"Take all them horses off, " he said, "and I'll pull you up the hillwith my team of blacks. "

We were grateful, but politely incredulous. What! One pair of horsesaccomplish a feat which eight had been unable to do. 

I grew feverishly excited in watching the exchange. It was a pictureto see the incredulity on the countenances of the van men. They triednot to show it, for that would have been impolite, but Eddie Bannon sawit, and grinned at their unbelief. 

When the blacks were in the traces, Bannon took the reins. One of themen offered him a long wicked-looking whip, but he spurned it. 

"No, " he said, "if the blacks won't pull for love, they won't for abeating. "

So then he spoke to them. Willing hands started the wheels. Thegallant little blacks, looking like a pair of ponies before the hugevan, seemed to lie flat on their bellies as they strained forward, digging their sharp little hoofs into the hillside. The van gave aninch--two! A foot! Then urged by their master's voice, and for verypride of home and race and breed, the gallant blacks pulled for dearlife, and in a quarter of an hour the van was at our door, and theywere switching their tails and stamping their hoofs and shaking theirintelligent heads in the pride of victory. 

As for Bannon, he stroked and praised them in an ecstasy ofself-vindication, and was refusing the van man's offer to buy them at"a hundred dollars apiece more than they cost. "

Those horses pulled our three vans up our hill, if you will believe it, and seemed rather to enjoy the grind they had on the other horses, sothat, in a fever of appreciation, I had to go and feed apples and sugarto all ten of them, and to remind the blacks that the New York horseshad been pulling those vans since midnight, all of which I begged themto take into consideration, while not in the least depreciating theirown glorious achievement. 

The initiated need not be told how, when hardwood floors are beinglaid, furniture is moved from room to room to accommodate thecarpenters, and the uninitiated will not be interested at the recital. It must be experienced to be appreciated. 

We lived through it. We learned not to object when the ice-box was setup in the hall so near the grate that the drip-pan had to be emptiedevery hour, and the iceman had to come twice a day. We learned to stepover rolls of rugs and to bark our shins on rocking-chairs and to tripover hidden objects with only a pleasant smile. 

We screened one porch entirely, and furnished it as a study for Aubrey. We had now papered and painted the house from top to bottom. We hadput in gas, telephone, and electric light, and when we could no longerthink of any further way to spend money, we turned our attention to thegarden. 

I longed for old Amos, my uncle's gardener and coachman in Louisville. His experience would be invaluable, and as the estate had been dividedand no one had any use for the old grizzled negro, they let me havehim. I adored Amos. It was he who had attended to all my childishpleasures on the plantation when I went there to visit, and, in turn, he thought "Miss Faith honey" could do no wrong. It is a comfort tohave some one in one's childish memory who thinks one can do no wrong, even if it is only a servant. 

So old Amos came and made flower-beds, and persuaded us to buy a pairof horses in addition to the one we had hitherto modestly used, andthus, with the aid of friends' and judicious servants' advice, we wereby way of being landed proprietors, and came to look upon Peach Orchardas an estate. 

Then the grocer's boy gave me the promised kitten, a common tigerkitten, which we named Mitnick, and soon afterward we acquired not onlyone cow, but several, our especial pride being an imported Guernsey, which figures quite prominently in my narrative further on. And asAubrey's unwonted prosperity continued, we endeavoured not to let ourriches increase too fast, by spending every cent upon which we couldlay our hands on the place. But who, who owns a country place, canhelp it? Or who would help it if he could?

We raised our own flowers and vegetables regardless of expense. Wecould have ordered American Beauties from New York every day for whatour hollyhocks and clove pinks and common annuals cost us. We plantedfive bushels of potatoes and dug three and a half, which made them cometo a dollar a bushel more than if we had bought them at the grocer's. And as to our milk and cream--I once heard the Angel say to Jimmie whenthey came out for a visit:

"Which will you have, old man? A glass of champagne or a glass ofmilk? They both cost the same!"

But what of it? Weren't they _our_ cows which gave the milk? Andweren't they _our_ potatoes which rotted in the ground, and _our_chickens which died before we could kill them? It was the pride ofownership which ate into our lives and made us quite sickening to ourfriends whose tastes ran to pink teas and hotel verandas, while we, poor fools, lived each day nearer to the soil, and loved more dearlythe earth which nourished us. 

CHAPTER IX

HOW BEE TRIED TO MAKE US SMART

Bee had spent nearly all the time since we were married in Europe, andhad never, therefore, paid the Angel and me a visit. But this veryafternoon she was to arrive. 

The arrival of one's sister need not necessarily mean anything asalarming as a smallpox scare, but if you knew the somewhatrevolutionary methods, adopted with a ladylike quiet and a well-bredcalm, which characterize Bee's visits to her relatives, you wouldexcuse our somewhat flurried preparations to entertain her. Inaddition to our natural desire to do our best for her, Bee had sent aletter clearly setting forth the style of entertainment she expected ofus, and indicating that no paltry excuses would be taken for our notcoming up to her wishes. 

Aubrey was at first for open rebellion. 

"If she will take us as she finds us, Bee will be welcome to come andstay as long as she likes, " he said, while her letter was still freshin our minds. 

"She won't, " I said, with conviction. Bee is my sister, or to speakmore accurately, I am Bee's sister. "She will come prepared to makeradical changes in our mode of living, in everything from our religionto the way we have hung the pictures. "

Aubrey used one small unprintable word. 

"Furthermore, " I added, "she will be so smooth and plausible about it, that you will not object to carrying out her wishes. "

The Angel gave me a look. 

"If we carry out her wishes, do you think that will be the reason?" heasked, quietly. 

"No, " I cried, impulsively. "It will be because as a host or asanything else you are an Angel. "

But he is also a diplomat, as his next remark will show. 

"As we are incapable with such generic instructions, " he said, tappingBee's letter with his pipe, "of knowing just how we must make ourselvesover to suit her, and as Bee is never quite happy unless she ismanaging other people's affairs, suppose we wait until she comes andgives us specific orders?"

This was what I considered the height, climax, and acme of hospitality. 

"Only, " he warned me as we drove to the station to meet her, "try toremain, within bounds. The only thing I ha--criticize about Bee isthat she makes such a coward of you. Remember when she tries tobrowbeat you, that _I_ consider your taste and common sense better thanhers, and that in any stand you take I am back of you, no matter whatit is. "

I pressed the Angel's hand gratefully. Bee's train was appallinglynear, and my blissful married independence was rapidly degeneratinginto my former state of jelly-like sisterly dependence. 

Bee is one of those persons who, consciously or unconsciously, make youfeel the moment you meet her the difference between your clothes andhers. I had almost forgotten this, but the second she stepped from thetrain I was invisibly informed of the distance between us. I had puton my best, and Aubrey said I looked very well, but in Bee's firstsweeping glance at me I felt sure that my dress was wrong in the back. 

The carriage drove up, and, as Bee stepped into it, I noticed, that thehorses were too fat, and that, while old Uncle Amos might be a comfort, he certainly was not stylish. I never had thought of these thingsbefore. 

In other words, Bee brought the city into too close juxtaposition forthe country to enjoy without a Mark-Tapley effort to come out strongunder trying circumstances. 

Our place, Peach Orchard, was old, rambling, and picturesque. But itwas also comfortable. Both the Angel and I hate the idea of pioneeringor of doing without city comforts. So we had put bathrooms in here andelectric lights there, and, by adding city improvements to a countryestate, we had made of Peach Orchard a dear old place. It was a place, too, over which some people raved, so I was loth to view it through mycritical sister's eyes for fear of permanent disenchantment. 

But at first Bee was very polite. She affected an interest in the cowsand the number of hens sitting and how many more chickens we got thanthe people whose estate adjoins. She spoke of the butter, which sofilled me with enthusiasm that I sent down to the dairy and had Marybring up Katie's last churning to show her. I was so interested in thecolour of the golden rolls in their cheese-cloth coverings that I didnot notice Bee's expression until afterward. 

At five Bee asked for tea. There were some hurried whisperedinstructions before we got it. But we pulled through that all right. 

Then Bee said:

"Who is coming out to-night?"

"Coming out where?" I asked, genially. 

"Why, to dine. Surely, you don't dine here alone, just you two, everyevening?"

I looked at Aubrey, and he looked at me. 

"To be sure we do! Do you think we are already so bored by each otherthat we send to New York for people to amuse us?" I cried, with somespirit. 

"Oh, not at all!" answered Bee, politely. "Only, I thought perhaps, now that I am here, you would have some one from town for me to talkto. "

"Why, I'll talk to you and so will Aubrey--"

I stopped in confusion. Again it was something in Bee's expression, Ifelt the same way when I called her attention to the length of thesorrels' tails. It reminded me that Bee preferred them docked. 

"It is your first night with us, so nobody will be here to-night, " Isaid, rising to the emergency. "But to-morrow we'll have somebody. I'll ask the Jimmies!"

"Or perhaps you could get Captain Featherstone from Fort Hamilton, "suggested Bee. 

"That is not likely, " I said. "He has so many engagements. "

"You might try him--by telephone, " suggested Bee again. 

"Certainly, I'll ask him, " I said, cordially. 

Aubrey pressed my handkerchief into my hand with a meaning twinkle inhis eyes, and when Bee went in to dress, he said:

"It will be rather nice to see old Featherstone again, don't you think?"

"Yes, if we can get him, " I answered. 

"You poor little goose, " said Aubrey, "don't you know they have it allarranged, and that Featherstone won't go beyond earshot of thetelephone until he receives your invitation?"

To be sure! I had forgotten Bee's methods. 

Of course it turned out as Aubrey predicted--it always does. CaptainFeatherstone accepted with suspicious alacrity. 

For three days Bee was polite, and I, who am most easily gulled for aperson who looks as intelligent as I do, was pluming myself upon thefact that our modest mode of living was proving agreeable to Bee'sjaded European palate. I wondered if she had noticed my housekeeping. She had not expressed herself in any way, but I wondered if she hadobserved how scrupulously neat everything was, that there was no linton the floors and what bully things we had to eat. 

I was the more eager to know what she thought from the fact that mostof my friends had not hesitated to say that I couldn't keep house, andthe Angel would starve. And once when I wrote home for a recipe fortomato soup and one of the girls heard of it, she actually sent me thisinsulting telegram: "Tomato soup! You! O Lord!"

Which just shows you. 

So, on the third day, on seeing Bee cast a critical look around, Isaid, unable to wait another minute for the praises I was sure wouldcome:

"Well, what do you think of us anyway?"

Then I leaned back with the thought in my mind, "Now here is where, asJimmie would say, I get a bunch of hot air. "

Bee wheeled around on me eagerly, and I smiled in anticipation. 

"Do you really want to know?"

"Of course I do!" I cried, impatiently. 

"You asked me, you know, " she said, warningly. 

"I know I did. Go ahead. Tell me. "

"Tell you what I think of you?" said Bee, looking me over as if to finda sensitive spot for her blow to fall on. "Well, I think that you arethe most hopelessly _bourgeoise_ mortal I ever knew. "

I sat up. 

"_Bourgeois_!" I exploded. 

"From a woman with social possibilities, " she went on, "you havedegenerated into a mere housewife. And you and Aubrey have becomepositively--"

She paused in order to be more impressive. 

"Domestic!" she hissed at last with such vehemence that I bit mytongue. As I put in no defence she went on, gathering momentum as shetalked. 

"When I heard that you had come to live in one of the smartest townsalong the Hudson, where millionaires are as thick as blackberries, Isaid to myself: 'Now they will rise to the occasion. ' But have you?No! I come, fresh from those gorgeous house-parties in England, tofind you and Aubrey no better than farmers and--satisfied withyourselves! If you could only get my point of view and see _how_satisfied you are!"

"We are happy, --that's what it is!" I interpolated, feebly. 

"Then be miserable, but progress!" cried Bee. "Such a state of socialstagnation as you exist in is a sin against yours and Aubrey's talents. "

I was so stunned I forgot to bow at this unexpected compliment. 

"Here you are in the midst of smart traps, servants in livery, horseswith docked tails and magnificent harnesses, perfectly contented withfat, lazy horses, an old negro coachman in a green coat, and carriageswhose simplicity is simply disgusting. There is only one reallymagnificent thing about Peach Orchard, and that is the dog. "

I felt faint. To have earned the right to live in Bee's eyes only by adog's breadth! It was mortifying. 

"I don't care so much for myself, " pursued Bee, comfortably, "but whatSir Wemyss and Lady Lombard will say, _I_ don't know. "

"Why, they aren't coming here, are they?" I gasped, sitting up. 

"They are, if you will invite them. Of course I have nowhere toentertain them, in return for all they did for me, and I thoughtpossibly you would ask them here for a fortnight, but since I have seenhow you live--unless, perhaps, you would be willing to be smartened upa bit?"

Bee looked distinctly hopeful. 

"What would you suggest?" I asked, huskily. 

Bee cleared her throat in a pleased way. 

"First of all, let me be assured that I will not be embarrassing you, "she said, politely. "You can afford to--to branch out a little?"

"Yes, " I said. But my pleasure in the admission was not keen. 

"Then, " said Bee, "I would advise a coachman and a footman in livery. I know just where two excellent Englishmen can be got. Then you wantall this made into lawns. You want to exercise the horses more, andhave their tails docked. And above all you want a victoria. "

"We have got that, " I said. "I was going to surprise you with it. Itcame this morning. "

"Where is it?" cried Bee, standing up and shaking out her gown. 

"In the barn, but perhaps--"

"Let's go and look at it!" exclaimed Bee. Then as we started she laidher hand kindly on my arm. "And please say 'stables, ' not 'barn. ' SirWemyss might not know what you meant. "

I giggled at this, for ours is so hopelessly a barn. Nobody but a foolwould try to rejuvenate the huge red structure by the word "stables. "It sheltered the lovely, soft-eyed Jerseys, a score of sitting hens inone retired corner, the horses, the feed, the carriages, and farmimplements. Stables indeed!

Bee walked straight by all the animals, who turned their heads and gaveme a welcome after their several kinds, and stood in delightedcontemplation before the beautiful shining victoria. 

"That is a beauty!" she said, at length. "Aubrey certainly knowswhat's what, even if you don't. Now I can tell you what has been in mymind all day long. Oh, do leave that cow alone and listen! Call thedog!"

Jack, our snow-white bulldog, came at a word. Bee beamed on him. 

"It is the latest--the very latest fad in London to drive in a victoriawith a white bulldog on the seat with you!" she said, complacently. "And Jack will be simply perfect for the part. "

"Shall I train Aubrey to run behind with his tongue hanging out, inJack's place?" I asked. 

"Now there you go--rejecting my simplest suggestion!" cried Bee. "Mysimplest, my smartest, and my least expensive! This won't cost you apenny, and it will attract attention at once. "

I closed my eyes for a moment to contemplate just what sort ofattention we would attract if the dog and I drove to the Station tomeet Aubrey. 

"Suppose we try it now!" suggested Bee. "Will you have Amos bring outthe horses?"

Bee is always scrupulously polite about not giving orders to myservants direct, although I have begged her to consider them as herown. I always think that a hostess who neglects to make her guestsfeel at liberty to give an order either is not accustomed to servantsor else stands in too much awe of them. 

Jack, the bulldog, assisted in our preparations with much getting underour feet and many hearty tail-waggings. Little he knew what was tofollow!

Bee carefully gave me my position at the right, and took her own. 

"Now, " she said, "there are two equally correct ways of sitting in avictoria, neither of which you are doing. "

I was quite comfortable, but I immediately sat up. 

"It depends upon what you have on, " Bee proceeded. "If you aretailor-made and it is morning, you sit straight like this. If it isafternoon and you are all of a Parisian fluff, you recline like thisand put your feet as far out on the cushion as you can. It shows offyour instep. "

"It comes very near showing off your garter, " I said, indignantly. "You needn't expect me to lie down like that and put my feet on thecoachman's back. Aubrey would have a fit. "

"You are positively low, " said Bee, straightening herself. I giggledhelplessly at her instructions. They were so beyond my power to carrythem out properly. 

"Can't I sit like this? Can't I be comfortable? What's a victoriafor, anyhow?" I demanded. 

"Call the dog!" was Bee's only answer. 

I called him. He came to the step, his tongue hanging out, his stumpytail wagging. 

"What'll you have, girls?" he seemed to say. 

"Get in here! Come up, Jack!" I coaxed, patting the seat invitingly. 

Jack put one paw on the step, and wagged his tail harder. Old Amos'sshoulders shook. 

"Don' reckon you all will git dat dorg into de kerredge, Miss Faith, "he said. "Look lake he smell a trick. "

It certainly did look as if he smelled treachery, for nothing couldpersuade him to enter our chariot. Finally the stable-boy lifted himbodily. Bee seized a paw and I his two ears, and thus protesting wedragged him to a position between us. He was badly frightened by suchtreatment, but remembering that I had been his friend in times past, his tail fluttered amiably. I gave a hurried order to Amos to driveout quickly, but as the carriage began to move, Jack's big bodytrembled violently, and he lifted up his voice in a howl of protestwhich woke the echoes. He tried to jump out, but as both Bee and I hadour arms around him, more in anxiety than affection, however, herealized that we desired his society, and forbore to escape. Jack is agood deal of a gentleman, you see, albeit primitive in his methods ofshowing his discomfort. 

"He'll soon stop, " said Bee, encouragingly. "He feels strange atfirst. "

But he didn't stop. The more familiar his surroundings became, themore we passed horses and dogs he knew, the keener became hishumiliation at driving by in enervating luxury, where once he hadtrotted pantingly in the dust and heat. His howl changed to a deepbay, and the bay to a long-drawn wailing, which was so full of painthat the passers-by made audible comments. As for me, I was afraidevery moment that we would be arrested by a member of the S. P. C. A. , but fortunately the populace seemed to think we were on our way to theveterinary surgeon for a dangerous operation. 

"Poor fellow!" said one, "you can see he is injured by the way they areholding him!"

"Ain't them ladies kind-hearted now to take that ugly-lookin' oldbulldog in that fine carriage to the doctor!" said a factory-girl. 

Bee crimsoned. 

"Stop laughing!" she said to me in a savage aside. "I wish I couldstuff my handkerchief down his throat. Won't he ever stop?"

"It seems not!" I answered, cheerfully. "And we really can't considerthat there is any more style to this manner of driving than if webelonged to the _hoi polloi_ who drive with their husbands, and lettheir dogs follow, can we?"

Bee gave me a look. 

"I believe you are pinching him to make him howl, " she said. 

At that unjust accusation I took my arms away from Jack's neck, andfeeling the affectionate embrace of his lawful mistress relax, heviolently eluded Bee's, and with a flying leap he was out and away, safely restored to his doggish dignity. 

By this time quite a little crowd had collected, and Amos's shoulderswere shaking unmistakably. Both these things annoyed Bee. The crowdwas pitying her. Amos was laughing at her, --two things which could notfail to vex. She can bear being envied to the verge of being wished aviolent death with equanimity, but to be pitied or ridiculed? HaughtyBee! She forgot herself, and gave the order herself to drive fast, andthe way we drove back to Peach Orchard gave Jack something to do tokeep up with us. We may have lacked the style of our driving out, butBee said the pace was good for the sorrels. To me it savoured of thepace of fugitives from justice. 

This episode, unfortunate as it had proved, would not have dampenedBee's ardour nor discouraged her in the least, had not Jack takenmatters into his own paws. He seemed to connect Bee with his day ofhumiliation, and not only eyed her with deep aversion, but howledpainfully whenever she cornered him. And as for the victoria--to thisday, whenever it is taken out, Jack with one leap is under the barn bya private entrance which he tunnelled out for himself on thatnever-to-be-forgotten day when we endeavoured to introduce a Londonfashion by means of him. 

Nevertheless, her other suggestions were carried out. The lovely wildtangle of berry-bushes and long grass was subdued. Our old-fashionedgarden was hidden by a row of firs, while Bee set out beds of cannasand geraniums. To me it was simply hideous, but the look ofcomplacency which Bee habitually wore as she thus brought us within thepale of civilization more than repaid me for any artistic losses we mayhave sustained. Bee was my sister and our guest, and could only bemade happy by feeling that her coming had effected changes for thebetter and by being constantly entertained. What, then, was moresimple than to content her with such entertainment as she had requestedbefore she came, and by permitting her to smarten us up? To be sure, Aubrey used to tell me every night that he was going to dig up the bedof cannas and coleus the moment her back was turned, but as I, too, wasquite willing to see that done, it seemed to me that I was treading asomewhat dangerous road with great discretion and a tact I never shouldget the credit for. Bee, I felt sure, regarded me as a fool for nothaving done all this at the beginning. 

At Bee's request we joined the Country Club and the Copsely Golf Club, and I bought more clothes, and the Angel and I found ourselves in a setwe never had cared for before, but which was amusing enough for a fewweeks or months at most. 

But the episode which broke the backbone of Bee's complacency andvirtually gave us back our freedom was this:

True to her word, Bee got us an English coachman and a footman, and putthem into a very smart and highly expensive livery. But the coachmanonly lasted a week, having too eagerly imbibed of the flowing bowl andbeing discovered by the Angel asleep in his new livery with his headsweetly pillowed on the recumbent body of the gentlest cow. Thismortified Bee, for the men were, in a sense, her property, so shedismissed him, had his livery cleaned, and resolutely set herself tothe somewhat difficult task of securing a coachman to fit the livery. I could, in this, give her no assistance, or, to speak more accurately, she would permit none, and finally she announced, with an air oftriumph which plainly called for congratulations, that she had securedwhat she wanted. 

The first time I saw my new coachman, there was something irritatinglyfamiliar about him. He seemed to know me very well, too, and called me"Mis' Jardine" with a nod of the head as if we had formerly been pals. But under Bee's tutelage I was on terms of distant civility with mymenials instead of knowing all their joys and sorrows as in the past. 

But Bee was charmed with the _tout ensemble_. She said he matched thefootman better than the Englishman did, because the Englishman wasIrish anyway. 

So that first afternoon Bee arranged to go to the Copsely Golf Clubjust at the close of the tournament, and to drive up when the porcheswould be filled with the players and their friends having tea. Beelikes to make a dramatic entrance, and often relates in tones ofpositive awe how she once saw a Frenchwoman in an opera-cloak composedentirely of white tulle run the whole length of the Grand Opera Housein Paris in order to make the tulle, which was cut to resemble wings, float out diaphanously behind her. 

So as we bowled smartly along, the sorrels having been reduced by harddriving until they were models of symmetry, the new victoria shining, our new liveries glittering in the eyes of the populace, and weourselves ragged out, as Aubrey said, as if our motto had been, "Damnthe expense, " we certainly felt complacent. 

"Now watch him pull the sorrels up, " whispered Bee. "I taught himmyself. "

With that we arrived almost at a fire-engine pace in front of theclub-house steps, and the carriage stopped. But to our horror, Bee'scoachman leaned so far backward to pull up that his body was perfectlyhorizontal, and--yes--I was sure of it, he braced his foot against thedashboard to get a leverage. I have seen grocery-boys pull up and turnsidewise on their seats in exactly the same manner. 

Bee's face was purple. 

The sorrels, unaccustomed to such a jerk of their bits, instantly beganto back, and two men rushed down the steps to our assistance. But Jehuwas equal to the occasion. He slapped the horses' backs with thereins, and joyously drove our two off wheels up on to the lowest stepof the club-house porch. 

In that attitude we paused, and _I_ got out. Bee, after an instant'shesitation, gracefully followed suit. Nor could you tell from herplacid face that this was not always the way we made our approach. 

As for me, I was in a spasm of laughter which Jehu saw. 

"I'm sorry, Mis' Jardine, " he said, as the gentlemen released thesorrels' heads, and he prepared to drive off the steps, "but thesehorses pulls more than Guffin's mare, and I can't get a purchase on 'emwith this bad hand of mine. "

Then I knew who he was! He drove Guffin's grocery wagon for twomonths, and had lost three fingers of his right hand!

Poor Bee! But she took it out on me on the way home for not having hadpresentable servants before she came. 

Now that she has gone, Amos is driving the sorrels again, and they aregetting fat. 

CHAPTER X

OUR FIRST HOUSE-PARTY

It was Bee who suggested giving one, but then Bee thought up so manythings for us to do while she was staying with us!

She invited her friends, Sir Wemyss and Lady Lombard, to spend a weekat Peach Orchard, and when they accepted she said, to soothe my frightat being asked to entertain such grand personages, that if I wouldinvite other people and make a house-party, it would take much of theresponsibility off my shoulders, as then the guests would entertaineach other. 

Then she mentioned Mr. And Mrs. Jimmie, Artie Beguelin and his wife, Cary Farquhar, and Captain Featherstone, which would make ten of us inall. 

To those who did not know Jimmie, this would seem a small number for ahouse-party, but Jimmie in a house all by himself would seem to fill itto overflowing with people, but they would all be Jimmie. 

As I knew how much solid satisfaction it would be to Mrs. Jimmie to befor a whole week in the same house with so famous a beauty as LadyLombard, I acted on Bee's suggestion, and all my people said they wouldcome. 

Bee came gracefully down-stairs one morning before our guests came. She held a letter in her hand. 

"Coffee, Bee?" I asked. 

"No, thank you. I had mine in bed. "

She wrinkled her brow in perplexity. 

"I don't know what to do about it, " she murmured. 

"About what?"

"Billy. He wants to see me so much, mother writes. She thinks I oughtto come home immediately. "

"Let's see, " I said. "It's only eight months since you saw your child. Isn't mother rather absurd?"

Bee lifted her eyes. 

"Don't be nasty, " she said. "You learned that tone from Aubrey. "

Aubrey smiled pleasantly at our guest. 

"I didn't!" I said, warmly. "I used to be quite nasty at times beforeI was married. "

Bee showed her little white teeth in a smile. 

"I'm glad to hear you admit it, " she said, sweetly. 

"If you would like to see Billy so much, " said Aubrey, politely, "whynot bring him on here?"

"Could you?" I cried, in delight. To think of having Billy! The lambhad never been in the country in his life, and he was wild over myletters about Peach Orchard. 

"I can arrange it, if you like, " Aubrey went on--mostly to me, forBilly's mother was silently thinking. 

"Do have him, Bee!" I cried. "I won't let him get in your way. Heneedn't even sleep in your room. I'll have Norah put up a cot in thealcove of the rose room. She can sleep there, and dress him andeverything. You won't be annoyed the least bit. "

"Well, " said Bee, with graceful reluctance, "if you are sure he won'tbe in your way, and if Aubrey's cousin will bring him, I see no reasonwhy he mightn't come. "

I almost squealed in my delight. It would certainly be worth while tosee the child's eyes when he first saw the calves and little chickens. 

I left both Aubrey and Bee at the table while I rushed up-stairs to seeif the rose room would be just right for him. I made Aubrey promise toarrange everything by telegraph. Norah loved children, and enteredinto my plans with delight. Then I flew out to interview old Amos. Hehad told me only a few days before that the boys on the estate nextours wanted to sell their goats and goat carriages. 

The days passed rapidly in preparations, but of all my guests, titledor otherwise, it was Billy--my Billy--I wanted to see worst. In twodays I got a letter. 

"Dear Miss Tats, " it ran, "I only write to say that I shall be glad tocome. If I had not written you a long letter so soon ago, I wouldwrite more now. Tell mother to be sure to meet me at the station. Don't let her forget that I shall arrive at four-sixteen. Youraffectionate little nephew, Billy. "

I wept tears of delight over this effusion, and "so soon ago" passedinto the Jardine vocabulary. 

In looking back, I think I can safely say that if Bee had known whatwould happen at that house-party to shock her English friends, shewould have preferred to discharge her obligations to them by a nicelittle Sunday afternoon at Coney Island or an evening in Chinatown. But fortunately the English are a sensible race, and Sir Wemyss and hisbride, perhaps because of the reasonable way the duchess came aroundwhen she found her daughter bent upon marrying Sir Wemyss, were sogood-humoured and so plainly determined to see naught but good inAmerica and naught but fun in Americans that they took everything ingood part. 

Aubrey, Jimmie, and Sir Wemyss got on capitally from the start, forbefore they came Aubrey said:

"What shall I say to them at first--when they come aboard of us, andbefore I have got my sea legs on?"

"Why, " said Jimmie, "that's dead easy. Say to Lady Mary, 'Let my wifegive you some tea, ' and to Sir Wemyss say, 'Old man, how would awhiskey and soda go?' and there you are right off the bat. "

Aubrey said precisely these words, with the most satisfactory result, for over her third cup of tea I felt very friendly with the beautifulEnglish woman, and after four whiskies the men were almost sociable. 

To our delight, Sir Wemyss was enchanted with Peach Orchard. Hevisited the uttermost corners of it. He was charmed with the cows, admired their breed, almost raved over Jack, the bulldog, whosepedigree was nearly as long as that of Lady Mary, who was the daughterof a hundred earls. He gave me many hints about my fine poultry, andwrote that first night for a pair of his very finest buff cochins to besent over from his place in England, which he had just inherited fromhis uncle. He showed us where the apple-trees needed pruning, and wasso interested in my attempts at an old-fashioned garden, which Bee hadhidden behind a tall hedge, that he went to fetch Lady Mary to look atit, and they both volunteered to send me some plants and shrubs fromEngland, which they declared I needed to complete it. 

Bee's face was a study during those few hours. She had honestly triedto have everything as English as possible for them, and had trained mypoor servants almost to death, with instructions as to what they wereto do during this week. They were outwardly obedient, but inwardlydisrespectful, as I overheard Norah, the housemaid, say to the cook:

"Katie, oh, Katie! We're wor-rkin' for the Four Hundhred now!"

"How do you know we ar-re?" asked Katie. 

"The ladies all shtrip fur dinner!"

Jimmie simply shrieked when I told him, but Bee failed to see anythingin it but an excellent reason why Norah should be discharged. Poor Bee!

She had given me specific directions about serving the meals, and hadmade me lay in a supply of jam for breakfast, and had implored me toserve cold meats and joints and things as the English do, and to pleaseher I had promised. But that first night at dinner Lady Mary turned tome and said, with a sweetness and grace not to be reproduced:

"Mrs. Jardine, I have come over here to live among you and to be aslittle unlike you Americans as possible. I cannot forget that it wasthe American dollar that made it possible for Wemyss to gain poor dearmamma's consent to our marriage, and I am correspondingly grateful. Now, won't you do me a favour? Won't you please leave off doinganything for us in the English manner, because of your desire to pleaseus, and mayn't I see in your house just how Americans live. Particularly your breakfasts. I have heard that they were sojolly--not a bit like ours, and I am keen to taste your hot breads!Fancy! I never saw any in my life. "

I fairly gasped with delight, and as for the maids, I was afraid theywere going to kiss Lady Mary. It removed an awful strain. 

"Certainly, " I beamed. "I will do anything I can for you. "

"If she does, " declared Jimmie, "there won't be a queer American thingfor you to learn after you leave Peach Orchard. You'll have seen 'emall. "

"That is what I should like, " said Lady Mary, in her deep, beautifulvoice. "And Wemyss would, too. "

Sir Wemyss, who spoke but seldom, here removed his cigar, for we hadgone into the billiard-room after dinner, and said:

"Jardine, you don't know how a little place like this appeals to me. Now our places in England are all so large that they take an army ofservants to run them, and the gardening and all that are done by one'smen. But here with only yourselves you can do so much. You can feedyour own chickens, you can prune your own trees, you can do such a lotyourselves. I should think it would be great fun. "

We were much flattered by this view of it, and Mrs. Jimmie and Bee wereplainly impressed. 

"My sister is very fond of her life here, " declared Bee. "I foundPeach Orchard a perfect pastoral when I first came. "

Jimmie had been smoking thoughtfully, with a frown of perplexity on hisbrow. Suddenly he spoke. 

"I think Sir Wemyss is right, " he answered. "Now, why not all of ustake a hand at farming, so to speak, while we are here? I never have, but I know I could. Anyhow I mean to try. To-morrow, let's go at itand prune the trees. "

"It is not the proper season to prune trees, " observed Sir Wemyss. "That should be done in the early spring, before the sap begins to run. "

Jimmie looked disappointed. 

"Those apple-trees are no good, " said the Angel, with tact, "so itcouldn't possibly hurt to prune them or cut them down if you want to. They are a perfect eyesore to me the way they are. "

To my surprise, both Jimmie and Sir Wemyss looked pleased. It was sopalpably the wrong thing to do that I should have supposed as good ahusbandman as Sir Wemyss would refuse. But the joy of doing evidentlyled him to accept the Angel's tactful permission to ruin ourapple-trees, if by so doing he could interest our guests. 

"The very thing!" said Sir Wemyss, with the nearest approach toenthusiasm I ever had seen in him. "Let's prune the trees by allmeans. "

"How charming!" said Bee. "Isn't it delightful to be your owngardener! You have no idea how domestic my sister is, Lady Mary. Shesuperintends her house quite like an Englishwoman. Did you know thatwe make all our own butter here at Peach Orchard, Sir Wemyss? And Iverily believe that Faith knows every chicken on the place by name. She is really at her best on a farm. "

Jimmie's cigar blinked as if he had winked with it. Mrs. Jimmie almostpermitted herself a wry face at the idea of turning her one week withthe Lombards to such poor account, and at first I feared that this planwould quite spoil her pleasure, to say nothing of Bee's. But if youhave noticed, the hostess has very little to do with a modernhouse-party, except to get her people together. After that, theymanage things to suit themselves. 

At any rate, it occurred that way at my house-party. I had little todo except to trot uncomplainingly in the rear of the procession, forwhen once Lady Mary made farming fashionable by her personal interest, Bee, who always out-Herods Herod, became so bucolic that she nearlydrove the hens off their nests in order to hatch the eggs personally. 

On the second day from the date of his letter, Billy arrived. Bee andI went to meet him. The train did not stop at Clovertown, so we had todrive about ten miles. I shall never forget that child's face as hesaw his mother. It twitched with feeling, but he felt himself toogreat a boy to cry--especially over joy. _I_ cried heartily. I alwaysdo! And Billy comforted me in his sweet, babyish fashion that Iremembered he used when he was in kilts. 

Billy became friends with old Amos that first evening, and thatsufficed, for Amos had enriched my own childhood, and I knew thatnothing which could amuse or instruct would be omitted. 

Billy felt that he and Jimmie, Aubrey, Captain Featherstone, and SirWemyss constituted the men of the household. When I asked him why hedid not include Mr. Beguelin, he put his hands behind him, spread hisshort legs apart, and said:

"Well, you see, Miss Tats, Mr. Beguelin has just been married, andbridegrooms don't count. "

Things went smoothly enough that first day while my people werebecoming acquainted. Then it was Jimmie, dear blessed old, maladroit, hot-tempered Jimmie, always so completely at home in a business deal, and always so pathetically awkward and so confidently bungling indomestic crises, who supplied us with sufficient material for a book on"How Not to Prune Trees Properly. "

We all went out to the apple-trees early in the morning. As usual, SirWemyss was dressed for the part. Why is it, I wonder, that the Britishalways find themselves dressed for the occasion? I believe, if anEnglishman were wrecked in mid-ocean, with only a hat-box for baggage, that out of that box he could produce bathing-trunks in which to drownproperly. 

The Angel was frankly and simply disreputable, his idea of beingproperly clad for farm-work being to be ragged wherever possible andfaded all over. Jimmie, however, wore his ordinary business clothes, patent leather shoes, and a derby hat. And as events transpired, I wasglad of it. I love to think of Jimmie pruning trees in patent leathersand a derby. 

Being, as I say, confident, Jimmie, who never had seen a tree pruned, waited for no instructions, but sprang nimbly upon a barrel, and, standing on his tiptoes, reached up and snipped at the lower branches. Sir Wemyss took a ladder and his pruning-knife, and disappeared fromview into the thickest part of the tree. But hearing the industry ofJimmie's scissors, he parted the branches and called out:

"I say there, old man! You are cutting off twigs. These are thethings which need to go--these suckers. See?"

"Yes, Jimmie, " I said, pleasantly. "You are not trimming a hedge, youknow. You are--"

Alas, that accidents are always my fault! Jimmie turned to glare atme, and the treacherous barrel-head gave way, letting him down mostungently into its middle, and rasping his shins in the descent in amanner which must have been particularly trying to one of delicatesensibilities. 

I sank down suddenly in gasps of unregenerate laughter, for thebarrel-head was a tight fit, and as Jimmie endeavoured to climb out, the barrel climbed too, giving him a strange hoop-skirt effect, whichwent but sadly with the derby hat. 

Jimmie grinned sheepishly as the Angel extricated him, and placed astrong board on the barrel for him to stand upon in safety. 

Then Jimmie decided to saw a dead limb off, and leave the pruning toSir Wemyss. So he took the saw and went valiantly to work, but it wastiresome, so he leaned his weight against the limb and industriouslysawed his prop off, which sent him flying almost into Lady Mary's lap. He saved himself by his nimbleness, but this time Jimmie wasmad--uncompromisingly mad. 

He said little, however, but seated himself in the cooling and tranquilvicinity of his Madonna-faced wife, while watching the Angel and SirWemyss reduce the refractory tree to symmetry and healthfulness withouteffort and without disaster. 

His failure and particularly Bee's and my ghoulish laughter had nettledhim, however, and he was determined to recover himself as well asregain his place in our esteem. 

All day he wandered around, seeking a suitable opportunity, all thewhile watching me craftily to see if I suspected his design. But Igave no sign, which plainly lightened the burden he was carrying. 

Lady Mary trained my crimson rambler rose over the dining-room windowand cut flowers for all the vases. This was ordinarily my work, and Iloved it, but it gave her pleasure, and above all it gave her a homepleasure which she had missed. I asked her if she would train theroses every day while she was with us, taking the work off my hands. She coloured softly as she gladly consented, and went prettily andimportantly to work. 

Artie Beg, having just come home from a prolonged honeymoon, wasfrequently obliged to go into town for a few hours' conference with hispartner, and Cary, from being one of the most energetic of guests, haddeveloped a tendency to talk of nothing in the world except herhusband, and, when no one would listen to her, of sitting apart withher hands folded in her lap and a dreamy look in her eyes as if onlyher body were present at my house-party. Her mind was plainly in WallStreet. 

I may not be believed, but Christianity and the love of God wereworking in my heart when the next afternoon I asked Jimmie's help in apiece of work which it did not seem possible for him to fail in. 

The side porch has a great curving, bulging iron trellis for thehoneysuckle, and I keep the vines so thinned out that I can have boxesof flowers growing on the porch railing, which only need what sunlightcomes filtering through the honeysuckle. By cutting the blossoms everyday I obtain the result I wish, and on this occasion I had cut all Icould reach, and I asked Jimmie to cut those which were beyond me. 

These boxes at the bottom were only as wide as the porch railing, butflared out on both sides in order to hold more earth, and all werepainted green. Now in that particular box, shaded by the honeysuckle, I had, with infinite care, coaxed sun-loving dwarf nasturtiums to grow, because their gorgeous colouring looked so well next to the box whichheld my ferns. 

I had planted the nasturtiums in early spring in the box in thegreenhouse, shading the colours from pale yellow at each end to aglorious orange and crimson in the middle. Each plant was perfect ofits kind and growing and blooming riotously before I took the box, which was some fourteen feet long, and with my own hands nailed it tothe porch railing, and its ends to two pillars. 

It never occurred to me that Jimmie would be foolish enough to try to_stand_ on the edge of that box, for of course, while I am nocarpenter, I drove my nails to cope with wind-storms, not a great man, who--oh, well! I might have known that Jimmie would do something. 

He could have reached all I wanted from the porch, but of course, though I only stepped through the French window to lay my flowers down, in that instant Jimmie had sprung upon that slanting edge of my poor, frail little box, and in that instant the mischief was done. The boxtilted and flung Jimmie forward against the curving trellis, whichbegan to creak and groan alarmingly. All my precious nasturtiums werepitched headlong into the flower-beds below, and for once Jimmieshrieked my name in accents of the acutest entreaty. 

"Faith!" he shouted, below his breath. "Faith, for God's sake run hereand catch me! This damned thing is giving way. Haul me back. Oh, mycoat won't save me! Leggo my coat-tails. Put your arms around mywaist. Stop laughing! Put--your--arms--around my waist--I say--andhaul me back! Brace your feet and pull!"

I did as he desired, bracing my feet and dragging him back to safety byhis leather belt. 

We were detected, however, by Bee and Captain Featherstone, who camestrolling gracefully around the corner of the house just as Jimmie'sconvulsed clutch loosened from the trellis and set all the vines todancing and trembling, as if a wind-storm had passed over them. 

There was no need of their asking what had happened. The ruin spokefor itself. Captain Featherstone gallantly helped me to pick up andreplant my poor nasturtiums, but they had been so bruised and theirfeelings so wounded by their undignified tumble that they did nothingbut sulk all the remainder of the summer, never once blooming outhandsomely as they should, although I carefully explained to them justhow it happened. They seemed to think that it was my fault, and theynever forgave me. Sometimes flowers are as unreasonable as people. 

Three days after Billy's arrival, when he had thoroughly mastered allthe details of Peach Orchard and knew personally all the cows, thehorses, the white bulldog, the cats, the chickens, the little calves, and the reachable branches of every tree on the place, old Amos came into speak to me. 

He stood before me, bowing, with his hat in his hand:

"Well'm, Miss Faith honey, I reckon de time's about ripe foh de goats. Dat boy's investigated every nook an' cornder ob de place, an' ef youtink bes' I'll go after de goats dis afternoon. "

"Very well, Amos, " I said. "We are all going to Philadelphia to-day toattend the launching of Mr. Beguelin's yacht, and we are going to takeBilly. You can bring the goats up while we are away, and tomorrowmorning we can give them to him. "

"Yas'm, " said Amos, bowing. "I'll have 'em hyah when y'all gets back. "

I will say nothing of the ceremony of the launching of the yacht, although, from Cary's uplifted face, you would have thought it was thechristening of a first-born child. Jimmie says we needn't sayanything. We were worse!

Billy was wildly excited over the breaking of the bottle of champagne, and asked a thousand questions about it. 

The next morning we all went out to the barn to see him receive hisgoats. His face fairly beamed when he saw them. He clapped his hands. 

"Oh, Uncle Aubrey! Miss Tats! Are they for me?"

Then he flung his arms around his mother's neck--Bee's neck, mindyou!--and cried out:

"Oh, mother, I do think I have the kindest relatives in all the world!What other little boys' relatives would think of the kindness of givingthem goats?"

"That's right, my boy, " said Captain Featherstone, looking with openadmiration at Bee's motherly attitude, on her knees beside her boy andhis arms around her neck, "always be grateful. It's a rare virtuethese days. "

Jimmie, however, who always spoils things, winked at Aubrey. ButBilly's next remark threw us all into fits of laughter. 

"Oh, Uncle Aubrey, can't we have a ceremony of launching the goats, andmayn't I break a bottle of champagne over their horns?"

Jimmie fairly yelled. Billy looked distressed. 

"Their horns are very strong!" he urged. "I don't believe it wouldhurt them one bit. And you might give me one of those little bottles Isaw Mr. Jimmie open--you remember the little one you had after the twobig ones, don't you, Mr. Jimmie?"

"Oh, yes, Billy, " I said. "Mr. Jimmie remembers. (You'd be ashamednot to, wouldn't you, Jimmie?)"

"You think you're funny, " growled Jimmie, witheringly, as Sir Wemyssand Captain Featherstone broke out afresh, and even Artie Beg left offlooking at Cary long enough to smile at Jimmie's scarlet face and Mrs. Jimmie's anxious one. She moved quietly over to where Jimmie wasstanding with his hands in his pockets, and slipped her arm throughhis. She did not know quite what it was all about, but she felt thatthey were laughing at her Jimmie, and, as usual, she lookedreproachfully at me. 

Billy's plaintive voice recalled us. 

"Yes, dearie, " I hastened to say. "You may have a small bottle ofchampagne--or perhaps Apollinaris water would be better, it sparklesjust the same, and if it flew in the goats' eyes it wouldn't make themsmart, and the champagne would. "

Billy beamingly acquiesced. 

"Now I must just think up some good names for them, " he said, with anair of importance, "and perhaps I'll have to ask Uncle Aubrey and Mr. Jimmie to help me. It's awful hard to think up suitable names forgoats. "

"All right, old man, " said Aubrey. "Come along. We'll think 'em upnow, and have the launching this afternoon, and invite some people tothe ceremony. "

So he and Billy and Jimmie took leave of us, and strolled awaytogether, Billy with his hands in his trousers' pockets and striving totake just as long steps as they did. He would have given his kingdomfor a pipe!

We got up quite a little party, and worked very hard over it. Bee andCaptain Featherstone delivered the invitations, and people thought itwas a most delicious joke, and came in a mood of the utmost hilarity. At first Billy wanted to break the bottle himself, but upon being toldthat girls always did it, he invited a bewitching little maid of seven, Kathleen Van Osdel, to christen them, while Billy valiantly sat in thegoat-carriage, waiting for Aubrey and Amos to let go of the goats'horns. 

The names were kept a profound secret, but Jimmie had a fashion ofgoing purple in the face, and pretending he was only going to sneeze. He walked around among the guests trying to appear unconcerned--whichmade me watch him closely. 

He had appointed himself master of ceremonies. He it was who put theApollinaris bottle into Kathleen's hands, and held her in his armswhile she leaned down and broke the bottle over the horns of thegentler goat. 

Then her childish treble shrilled out:

"I christen thee, Roosevelt and Congress!" she cried out. 

"Let go!" shouted Billy, standing up in the goat carriage, his cheekslike scarlet flowers. 

Amos and Aubrey released their hold, Kathleen screamed with excitement, and away bounded the goats down the driveway, with Sir Wemyss afterthem on horseback, for fear anything might happen. 

But nothing did happen, and in ten minutes back they came to receivecongratulations from everybody. 

"Are they all right, Billy?" I cried. 

"Yes, Miss Tats. Congress is just as gentle as can be when you let himalone. They go splendidly, except when Roosevelt butts. You know heis always butting into Congress and making trouble. "

At that I understood, for Jimmie deliberately rolled on the grass. 

"I noticed that peculiarity of the goats, " he gasped, when he couldspeak, "but if I had trained that child a month, he couldn't have putit better. It's--it's simply too good to be true!"

Then he went away to explain the joke to Lady Mary. 

I think Bee enjoyed the house-party in spite of its gardening flavour, for we entertained quite a little. At another time I gave a musicale, and had people out from town; we were invited about while automobilessnorted and chunked into Peach Orchard at all hours of the day to theeverlasting terror of the cats, who streaked by us and flashed up treesin simple lines of long gray fur. 

It was strange how the cat family resembled human beings, for it wasthe young cats, Puffy and Pinkie and Fitz and Corbett, who got used tothe automobiles first, and ceased to run at their approach. Youth isever progressive and adaptable, while poor old Mitnick crouched in thefork of a high pine, and glared with her yellow eyes and waved hergreat tail in furious revolt at those puffing, snorting monsters whichshe never could abide anyway, --and she was glad she couldn't. 

We had no automobile, but the sorrels were there in the height of theirglory and slimness, and we still basked in the refulgence of thecoachman and footman of Bee's own selection, so her soul was at peace. 

Only one thing happened to mar our pleasure. Jimmie fell ill. 

Mrs. Jimmie hunted me up one blistering morning, and said, anxiously:

"Faith, I am very much worried about Jimmie. He is lying down. "

"Well, what of it?" I said, with unintentioned brutality. "Does healways sit up that you seem so surprised?"

She looked at me reproachfully. 

"He always sits up when he is well, " she said, gently. 

"Is he ill?" I exclaimed, dropping my gardening shears and hastilywiping my hands on my apron. "Can I do anything for him? Does he needa doctor? I'll go right up. "

Mrs. Jimmie coloured all over her soft creamy face. She laid her handon my arm. 

"Don't be offended, will you, dear?" she begged, "but--Jimmie--you knowhow unreasonable sick men are--"

She paused helplessly. 

I waited. 

"Well, out with it! What does he want?"

"He said--I didn't realize how difficult it would be to tell you whenhe said it--but he said--"

Again she stopped. 

"I shall evidently have to go and ask him what he wants, " I said, moving toward the house. 

"No, no, dear! I will tell you! Don't go near him!" pleaded Mrs. Jimmie. "That is just what he doesn't want. He said on no accountwere you to come near him. "

She paused with a gasp. Evidently she expected me to burst into tears. 

"The brute!" I remarked, pleasantly. "I hope he is suffering!"

Mrs. Jimmie's beautiful face became instantly grave. 

"He is suffering, Faith, " she said, quietly. 

"Then why won't he see me? Perhaps I could do something. Aubreyalways lets me try. Has he a headache?"

"He has a splitting headache, he says, and a high fever, and his collarhurts him. "

"His collar hurts him! Then why doesn't he take it off?"

"That's just it. He won't. He says he always wears it and it neverhurt him before, and he'll be--well, he says he won't take it off foranybody. "

I turned away and bit my lip. 

Poor old sick, obstinate Jimmie! In my mind's eye I could just see himlying there with all his hot clothes on and swearing he would not takethem off and be made comfortable. 

But I could do nothing. He would see none of us. I sent tea andlemonade and ice and hot-water bags and every conceivable remedy to hisrooms, but with no effect. Nor would he hear of our calling a doctor. 

About four o'clock Mrs. Jimmie left him for a few moments, and this wasmy chance. 

I slipped into the room. He was lying on the couch with his feet inpatent leather shoes, --even his coat and waistcoat on, and a high, tight collar which rasped his ears. 

He grinned sheepishly when he saw me. 

"You told me to keep out, I know, but I never do as I'm told, so I cameanyhow. "

"I know that, " growled Jimmie. 

"Your head's as hot as fire, " I said. "And those shoes are drawinglike a mustard plaster. "

"I don't care. I won't take 'em off, " said Jimmie, savagely, raisinghimself on his elbow. 

I turned on him. 

"You always were a fool, Jimmie, " I said. "You don't have to take themoff if you don't want to. " (He sank back with a groan of pain. ) "ButI'm going to do it, and if you kick while your foot is in my lap you'llhurt me. "

Before he could wink I had pulled off those abominable things, andslipped his narrow silk-stockinged feet into cool slippers. Hecouldn't restrain a sigh of comfort. I went in the closet to put hisshoes on their trees, and brought out a white linen coat. 

"Sit up and put this on, " I commanded. 

"I will not!" he answered, flatly. 

I looked around and there stood Mrs. Jimmie. If she had stayed awayanother ten minutes, I would have got him comfortable. But in spite ofour combined efforts he insisted upon lying there as he was. 

I went out and telephoned for the doctor, and when he came it pleasedJimmie no end that he didn't say a word about taking off those hotclothes. 

"You see, " he said to his wife, "that doctor knows his business. Hedoesn't devil me the way you women do. "

Mrs. Jimmie was wise enough to make no reply. 

"He said if you would go to sleep for an hour you would feel better, "she said. "So put on this thin coat, then I'll close the blinds and goout. "

Jimmie looked at her quizzically. Then he slowly sat up and changedhis coat without a word. 

When he wakened his headache was gone. But he was unable to come downto dinner, and we saw him no more that day. 

As he went to bed that night he said:

"I suppose you and Faith chuckled over getting your own way with myshoes and coat. But I want you to tell Faith that I stuck it out onthe collar and that I only took it off when I went to bed!"

He was all right the next day, so we were spared the grief of beingobliged to bury him in that collar. 

So it came to be the last day of the Lombards' stay. 

We had all grown exceedingly fond of the dear English people who hadcome so sweetly into the midst of an American home and adaptedthemselves to our way of living with such easy grace. No one wouldhave believed, to see Lady Mary in her simple garden hat and cottongown, that she was a court beauty, over whose hand royalty had oftenbent in gracious admiration. But it was true. 

Nor was she deficient in a sense of humour, for she openly doted onJimmie, and listened intently for his jokes, with the laudableintention of seeing them before they were explained to her, if shecould. 

His absurd misadventures, however, came well within her ken, and thislast one so tickled her fancy that--I blush to say it, but it istrue--our imported Guernsey cow is responsible for Jimmie's invitationto Combe Abbey to visit the Duchess of Strowther, when Lady Mary goeshome to her mother next May. 

This is how it happened. 

We were all out on the tennis-court one afternoon, when our attentionwas attracted by the strange antics of the Guernsey. She was generallyquite shy and would allow no one to whom she was not accustomed to comenear her. But on this occasion she lurched up near where we werestanding, and crossed her forefeet and leered at us in such a way thatwe women instinctively moved backward and put the men between us andher. 

We all stared at her, and she stared back and switched her long tailand hung her tongue out and rolled from side to side, until Jimmie said:

"I'm blessed if the old girl doesn't look drunk!"

Just then old Amos ambled up, his fat sides shaking. 

"Dat's jest what!" he exclaimed. "You sho'ly am a jedge ob jags, Mistah Jimmie, tah be able tah tell 'em in man er beas'! Dat cow'sdrunk. Dat's what she is. Jest plain drunk an' disorderly. She brokeher rope dis mornin' en got at de apples en filled hersif full ob dem. And apples always mek a cow drunk!"

"I never heard of such a thing, " said Captain Featherstone. 

Amos scratched his head. 

"Well, Mars Captain, I reckon dere's a heap o' tings about a farm datarmy ossifers never hearn tell of--meaning no onrespect to dere booklarnin'. But jes' de same, dat air Guernsey am drunk. "

We all looked at her with interest. 

"But what will she do?" I said. "How does being drunk affect a cow?"

"Jes' same as er man, Miss Faith, honey. Jes' look at her! She usedto be de shyest, mos' ladylake cow awn de place. She always seemed to'member dat she'd had a calf en was a lady ob quality. Now look ather! She don' keer! She'd jes' as soon lean her head on de Boss'sshoulder en ax him fer a drink er de loan ob his cee-gyar. She's doneforgot dat she's a mudder. She feels lake she don' know which is deodder side ob de street en she don' want to be tol'! Dat's what drinkdoes for man or beas'. "

"But will it hurt her milk?" I said, soberly, for the rest werescreaming at the imbecile expression of the Guernsey while Amos thusdiagnosed her case. 

"No'm, no'm. Leastways hit won't hurt huh none. It'll dry her up, dough. Such a jag as dat Guernsey's got will dry up her milk for twoweeks er mo'. En I wouldn't keer to be de one ter milk huh, neider!"

Here was Jimmie's opportunity. 

"Nonsense!" he said. "I'll milk her! I'm not afraid of what a drunkencow will do. Let me know, Amos, when you want her milked. "

"All right, Mistah Jimmie. I sho will let you know, yas, sir. Nowden, Missus fool cow! Ef you can leab off chattin' wid de quality longenough to go teh yo' stall, I'll show you de way. "

I repeat--the Guernsey used to be our best-behaved, most intelligentand ladylike cow, but when Amos endeavoured to lead her away, shecalmly sank down just where she was, and went to sleep. 

This was too much for Amos. Fun was fun, to be sure, and he seemedglad we were pleased by the Guernsey's antics, but his wrath at a cow'staking the tennis-court for her afternoon nap upset his ideas ofpropriety. 

"Doesn't she remind you for all the world, " cried Jimmie, with tears inhis eyes, "of a man who sinks to sleep with his arm affectionatelyaround a lamp-post? Her feet are in an attitude that a painter wouldcall 'one of unstudied grace!'"

But Amos, in a fury, pushed, pulled, slapped, and shoved her into asitting posture, and, by dint of leaning upon each other as if bothwere under the weather, he finally got her started toward the barn, she, every once in awhile, pausing to lift a fore foot hilariouslybefore planting it on her next uncertain step. 

Several hours later I saw Jimmie, with a shining new milk-pail on hisarm, followed by Amos with the milking-stool in his hand and his tonguein his cheek, go toward the Guernsey's stall. 

We all looked expectantly at each other, then rose, as if by commonconsent, and followed. 

Lady Mary tucked her arm under Mrs. Jimmie's, and gurgled deliciously. 

"Oh, dear Mrs. Jimmie! Is your husband always as amusing as he hasbeen here at Peach Orchard? If he is, I am sure mamma would justdelight in him--only things aren't always happening at Combe Abbey toshow him off as they are at Mrs. Jardine's. "

Mrs. Jimmie looked dubious at the first part of this remark, flushedwith pleasure at the middle of it, and looked reproachfully at me atthe last. 

Why is everything always my fault, I wonder?

"Well, I don't know, " she said, slowly, "but it does seem as if Jimmiealways gets into more troub--I mean, has more adventures when he andFaith are together than when he and I are alone. Oh, oh! What can bethe matter with that cow! Oh, I wonder if she has killed my husband!"

We all looked just in time to see the Guernsey gallop madly across thegarden, plough her way through the sweet corn, and disappear gaily overthe fence, heading for the trolley-tracks, with Amos a close second asshe took the hurdle. 

Bee's English coachman, who took great pride in the kitchen-garden, hastily followed to see what damage she had done, but at Mrs. Jimmie'sagonized entreaty to know what had become of Jimmie, I called him, andhe came, respectfully touching his forelock in a way which Jimmiealways said "was worth the price of admission. "

"I think she has about done for the Country Gentleman, ma'am. She hastrampled it so it will never be any good. "

Mrs. Jimmie turned white, and leaned gaspingly on Lady Mary. 

"Trampled him!" she cried. "Oh, come! Come quickly, and see if shehas killed him!"

"My dear!" I cried, almost hysterical over her mistake. "The CountryGentleman is a kind of sweet corn--not Jimmie! See, there he is now. Look, dearest!"

Sure enough, there came Jimmie, a trifle sheepish, but defiant. Hisderby hat was without a brim, the milk-pail was jammed together like afolding lunch-box, and had a little foam on the outside, as the soleproduct of his milking prowess. 

We asked no questions, but our eager faces demanded an explanation. 

He gave it, --terse as was his wont. 

"Well, I'll bet that damned cow never switches her tail in anybody'sface again!"

We needed no further description of what had happened. The picture wascomplete. 

Strange to say, Lady Mary seemed to comprehend better than any of us. She gurgled with laughter the whole evening, and lavished attentionsupon Jimmie so flatteringly that he ceased to look furtively at me andbecame quite cocky before the evening was over, pretending that he haddone all these things to help me entertain my guests. 

As we went up-stairs that night, Mrs. Jimmie clutched my arm, and, witheyes as big as stars, said, in a tense whisper:

"My dear, we are invited to Combe Abbey! Think of it! To visit theDuchess of Strowther! Lady Mary is going to write to her motherimmediately!"

If it had been anybody except dear Mrs. Jimmie, I should have said:

"Is she going to invite the cow, too?"

But as it was, I squeezed back, and said, earnestly:

"I am so glad, dear Mrs. Jimmie!"

CHAPTER XI

ON THE GENTLE ART OF WASTING OTHER PEOPLE'S TIME

On the last day of the house-party we decided to hold a familygathering in the evening, to which each guest must bring a writtensketch of some member of the household. It was to be a very shortsketch, not to consume over ten minutes in the reading, and no one wasto get angry, and no one was to get his feelings hurt. 

Aubrey had to go into New York to attend a dress rehearsal of his newplay, but he promised to write something on the train, and have itready. His absence left me at once to play hostess and to receive thequeer, curious, and inconsequent persons who flock to the door of thesuccessful playwright, with every wish from obtaining his autograph toan offer to stage his plays. 

My time was all taken up until eleven o'clock, in ordering and settingthe servants at work, righting their wrongs, and pottering around amongmy large family. At three I had an engagement. This left me but ashort time in which to write my sketch. I begged Bee to help me out, but never yet have I succeeded in impressing Bee with any respect formy working hours. For this reason I laid down the law with open energyto Billy, hoping that Bee would see that I meant her. 

I began the campaign at breakfast. Bee and Billy and I were alone. 

"At eleven o'clock I am going to begin to write, " I announced, firmly, "and, Billy, I want you distinctly to understand that you are not torun your engine in my hall. Do you hear?"

"Um--huh, " said Billy, smiling at me like a cherub. 

Bee leaned over and wiped the butter off Billy's chin. 

"Before I go to town to-day I want to talk over that blue silk withyou, " she said. "I don't know how much to get, and Eugenie is soextravagant unless I get the stuff and tell her I got all there was inthe piece. Then she makes it do. Would you have it made up with lace?"

"Now, look here, Bee, " I said, "I am not going to get my head allmuddled with dressmaking before I begin to write. I have all my ideasready to write that article for to-night. I am going to tell about Mr. And Mrs. Jimmie at Canterbury. Don't you remember what happened? Youknow if you side-track me on clothes I simply cannot do a thing. "

"I know, " said Bee, placidly. "No, Billy, not another lump of sugar. Be quiet while mamma talks to Tattah. I know, but it seems to me youmight have selected another day to write. You know I wanted to consultyou about the dinner Thursday. "

"I didn't select the day. The day selected me. "

"Why didn't you write yesterday?"

"I didn't have any time. "

"Why don't you wait until afternoon?"

"You know they are to be read tonight. "

"Oh, very well, go ahead, and I won't bother you. I dare say thedinner will be all right. But if you would just tell me which to use, lace or chiffon with the blue?"

"Lace, " I said, in desperation. 

Bee half-way closed her eyes and took Billy's hand out of thecream-pitcher. 

"I think I'll use chiffon, " she said. 

The only use my advice is to Bee is to fasten her on to the oppositething. She says I help her to decide because I am always wrong. 

"Now will you keep Billy away and excuse me to all visitors, and don'tcome near my door for three hours and send my luncheon up at oneo'clock, and _don't send after the tray_! Leave it there until I havefinished writing. "

"It is so untidy, " murmured Bee. 

"Well, who will see it?"

I am one of those who cleanse the outside of the desk and the bureau. 

"Now, Billy, my precious, if you will keep away from Tattah all themorning, I will give you some candy directly after dinner. You willfind it on the sconce just where I always put it, " I said. 

The sconce is where Billy and I put things for each other. He is onlythree and a half--"thrippence, ha'penny, " he says if you ask him, butbeguiling--oh, as beguiling as Cleopatra, or the serpent in the Gardenof Eden, or--or as his mother!

Billy and I went to look at the sconce on my way up-stairs, and hecalled me back twice, saying, "Tattah, I want to kiss you, " which Icould but feel was something due to the promised candy on the sconce. 

I sat down and began to write:

_Mr. And Mrs. Jimmie at Canterbury_. 

Mrs. Jimmie, having been presented at the Court of St. James, alwayshas more to do in London than she can attend to. As Jimmie hatesfunctions with all the hatred of the American business man who looksupon gloves as for warmth only, this leaves Jimmie and me to roamaround London at will. Mrs. Jimmie loathes the top of a "'bus" andabsolutely draws the line at "The Cheshire Cheese. " She lunches atScott's and dines at the Savoy, while Jimmie and I are never so happyas in the grill-room at the Trocadero or in a hansom, threading themazes of the City, bound for a plate of beefsteak pie at "The CheshireCheese" or on top of a 'bus on Saturday night, going through theWhitechapel region, creepy with horrors of "Jack the Ripper. "

"What in all the world is a beefsteak pie?" she asked us, when sheheard our unctuous exclamations. 

"Why, it is a huge meat pie, made out of ham and larks and pigeons andbeef, with a delicious gravy or sauce and a divine pastry. And you eatit in a little old kitchen with a sanded floor and deal tables, andwhere the bread is cut in chunks and where the steins are so thick thatit is like drinking your beer over a stone wall, and where Dr. SamuelJohnson used to sit so often that the oil from his hair has made alovely dirty spot on the wall, and they have it under glass with atablet to his memory, so that if you like you can go and kneel down andworship before it, with your knees grinding into the sand of thefloor, " I said. 

"Dear me, " said Mrs. Jimmie, faintly. "Couldn't they have cleaned itoff?"

At this juncture Bee came in with her hat on. "Excuse me forinterrupting you, " she said, with a far-away look in her eyes. "But doyou mind if I copy that pink negligee? It hangs so much better thanthose I got in Paris. I won't take a moment. Just stand up and let mesee. You needn't look so despairing, I am not going to stay. No, Billy, you stay there. Mother will be down directly. Oh, baby, whywill you step on poor Tattah's gown? See, you hurt her. Didn't I tellyou to stay with Norah? Six, eight, ten--don't, Billy. Don't touchany of Tattah's papers. Twelve--and four times seven--I think thirtyyards of lace--Billy, take your engine off the piano. Oh, I forgot totell you that Dick just telephoned, and wants us to make up a party forthe theatre, with a supper afterward, next Monday. I telephoned toFreddie and asked him, and he is delighted, and so I told Dick that wewould all come with pleasure. Now come, Billy, we must not interruptTattah. This is one of the days when she must not be disturbed. "

She closed the door with the softness one uses in closing the door of adeath-chamber, in order, I suppose, "not to disturb" me. I pulledmyself together, and went on. 

_Mr. And Mrs. Jimmie at Canterbury_. 

"Clean it off? What sacrilege! Why, there are persons who would liketo buy the whole wall, as Taffy tried to buy the wall on which LittleBillee had drawn Trilby's foot, " I exclaimed. 

Mrs. Jimmie looked incredulous. She is so deliciously lacking in asense of humour that in the frivolous society of Jimmie and me she isas much out of place as the Venus de Milo would be in vaudeville. 

"We had such a delightful day at Stoke Pogis Monday, how would you liketo spend Sunday at Canterbury?" she said. "It seems to me that itwould be a most restful thing to wander through that lovely oldcathedral on Sunday. "

Before I could reply, Jimmie dug his hands down in his pockets, thrusthis legs out in front of him, dropped his chin on his shirt-bosom andchuckled. 

"What I like are cheerful excursions, " he said. "On Monday we went toStoke Pogis. It rained, and we had to wear overshoes, and we carriedumbrellas. We lunched at a nasty little inn where we had to eat coldham and cold mutton and cold beef, when we were wet and frozen to startwith. What I wanted was a hot Scotch and a hot chop and hotpotatoes--everything _hot_. Then--"

"Wait, " I cried. "It was the inn where John Storm and Glory Quaylelunched that day when she led him such a dance. "

"John Fiddlesticks!" said Jimmie. "As if that counted against thatcold lunch! Then we arranged to go in the wagonette, but you got intosuch a hot argument with me--"

"I thought you said we didn't have anything hot, " I murmured. 

"Then we missed the wagonette, and spent an hour finding a cab. Thenwhen we got there we were waylaid by an old woman in a little cottage, who showed us a register of tourists, and who artfully mentioned thesums they had given toward the restoration of Stoke Pogis, and you mademe give more than the day's excursion cost. Then we went along a wet, bushy lane that muddied my trousers, and when we arrived at Gray'sgrave, you found the solemn yew-tree, and perched yourself on a wet, cold gravestone, and read Gray's Elegy aloud, while I held an umbrellaover your heads and enjoyed myself. Now you want to put in Sunday atCanterbury, where, if it isn't more cheerful, you will probably have tobury me. "

"Jimmie, you haven't any soul!" I said, in disgust. 

Jimmie grunted. 

A knock on the door. 

"Please excuse me for interrupting you, " said Mary, "but there are tworeporters down-stairs, who want to know if they may photograph thefront of the house for the Sunday _Battle Ax_. "

"Yes, I don't care. Tell them to go ahead. "

She shut the door and went away. 

_Mr. And Mrs. Jimmie at Canterbury_. 

"Oh, Jimmie, " sighed his wife. 

Another knock. 

"Mary, what _do_ you want?" I said, savagely. 

She stuttered. 

"And please, Missis, they want to know if you will just come and sit onthe doorstep a moment with a book in your hand. I told them Mr. Jardine wasn't at home, so they said you would do!"

"No, I won't. Tell my sister to put on my hat and hold the book infront of her face and be photographed for me. "

"Very well, Missis. "

She went out, and again I numbered the page and essayed to write. ButI could not. I was rapidly becoming mired. I stonily refused to leavemy desk, but sat staring at the wall, trying to get the thread of mynarrative, when--Mary again. 

She was in tears. 

"I am afraid to speak to you, and I am afraid _not_ to speak to you, "she stammered. 

"Well, what is it?"

"Indeed, I try, Missis, but I can't seem to help you any. There aretwo young girls in the drawing-room, who want to know if Mr. Jardinewill give his autograph to the Highland Alumnae Club. It has 472members. They sent up their cards. "

I simply moaned. 

"That will be a whole hour's work! I can't do it now. (Mary knows Ialways write Aubrey's autographs for him!) Tell them to leave thecards and call for them to-morrow. "

_Mr. And Mrs. Jimmie at Canterbury_. 

"How in the world, Mrs. Jimmie, did you come to throw yourself away onJimmie?" I said, with an impertinence which was only appreciated byJimmie. 

Mrs. Jimmie took me with infinite seriousness, and looked horrified atthe sacrilege. She got up and crossed the room and sat down besideJimmie on the sofa, without saying a word. Her tall, full figuretowered above the gentlemanly slouch of Jimmie's boyish proportions, and her thus silently arraying herself on Jimmie's side as a wordlessrebuke to my impertinence was so delicious that Jimmie gave me a solemnwink, as he said:

"Now she has only voiced the opinion of the world. Let us face thequestion once for all. Why did you marry me?"

Mrs. Jimmie coloured all over her creamy pale face. She looked indistress from me to Jimmie, divided between her desire to express inone burst of eloquence the fulness of her reasons for marrying the manshe adored, and her reluctance to display emotion before me. She tookeverything with such edifying gravity. It never dawned on her that hewas teasing her. 

"Don't torment her so!" I said. "Mrs. Jimmie, I admire your taste, butI admire Jimmie's more. "

"Thank you, dear, " she said, seriously, but still with that soft blushon her cheeks. Then she added, quietly, "Jimmie never torments me. "

"_Mon Dieu_, " I said, under my breath, with a fierce glance at Jimmie. But he only shook his head, as one would who had not "fetched it" thattime, but who meant to keep on trying. 

Another knock. Mary again, with the mail. She was swallowingviolently, and her eyes were full of tears. I took up the letters andtore them open. 

Sixteen requests for autographs, only one enclosing a stamp. Twelveletters from young girls, telling Aubrey their stellar capabilities. Four requests for photographs. Some personal letters, and this choiceeffusion, which I copy _verbatim et spellatim_. 

"DEAR SIR: Please tell me how you Study human natur do you travleextensively through close Social relations or do you Study phenology. You illustrate it So accrately that I would be pleased to know yourmethod and if you don't think I am too cheeky, would be pleased to knowyour income. I remain yours with respect. "

I gave a little shriek of delight, and rushed back to the Jimmies withrenewed enthusiasm. This unknown man had inspired me afresh. 

_Mr. And Mrs. Jimmie at Canterbury_. 

But although Jimmie growls, there is no one in the world who is soexcellent a travelling companion as he, for he is always ready foreverything. You cannot suggest any jaunt too wild or too impossiblefor Jimmie not to bend his energies toward making it possible. Thechief reason that Mrs. Jimmie likes me so much is because I admireJimmie, and the reason that Jimmie likes me is because I adore Mrs. Jimmie. 

So I was not at all surprised to find ourselves at Canterbury onSaturday afternoon, after a short run from London through one of theloveliest counties of England. Such bewitching shades of green. Suchlovely little hills, --friendly, companionable little hills. I can'tbear mountains. It is like trying to be intimate with queens andempresses. They overpower me. 

Canterbury was enchanted ground to me. We found the very old cellarover which stood the Canterbury Inn. I could picture the whole thingto myself. I even reconciled Chaucer's spelling with the quaintnessand curiousness of the old, old town. 

We strolled up to St. Martin's Church, said to be the oldest church inEngland, and wandered around the churchyard, filled with glorious rosescreeping everywhere over tombs so old that the lettering is illegible. When the sun set, we had the most beautiful view of Canterbury to behad anywhere, and one of the most beautiful in all England. 

We sat down to a cold supper that night in a charming little inn withdiamond-paned windows. But as Jimmie loves Paris cooking and wouldalmost barter his chances of heaven for a smoking dish of _sole à laNormande_ at the Café Marguery, he cast looks of deep aversion at aside table loaded with all sorts of cold and jellied meats. His choiceof evils finally fell upon chicken, and to the purple-faced waiter withblue-white eyes, who asked what part of the fowl he would prefer, Jimmie said:

"The second joint. "

The waiter frowned and went away. Presently he came back and askedJimmie over again, and again Jimmie said, "The second joint. "

He went away and came back with a fine cut of beef. 

"What's this?" said Jimmie. "I ordered chicken. "

"Yes, sir!" said the waiter, mopping his brow, "What part would youlike, sir?"

"The second joint, " said Jimmie, with ominous distinctness. "That isif English chickens _grow_ any. "

"Yes, sir, yes, sir, " said the poor waiter. 

He hurried away, and finally brought up the head waiter. 

"What part of the fowl would you like, sir? This man did notunderstand your order. "

Jimmie leaned back in his chair, and looked up at the waiters withoutspeaking. 

"How many parts are there to a chicken?" said Jimmie. "As your mandoes not seem to speak English, you name them over, and when you cometo the one I want, I'll scream. "

Both waiters shifted their weight to the other foot and lookedembarrassed. 

"I want the knee of the chicken, " said Jimmie. "From the knee-cap tothe thigh. That part which supports the fowl when it walks. Not thebreast nor the neck nor the back nor yet the ankle, but the upper, thesuperior part of the leg. Do you understand?"

"The upper part of the leg? I beg pardon, sir, but the waiterunderstood that you wanted a cut from the second joint on that table, sir. "

Jimmie simply looked at him. 

"The English speak a dialect somewhat resembling the American language, Jimmie, " I said, soothingly. 

A knock at the door, and Bee appeared. 

"Should Wives Work?" she said. "Answer that offhand! There is areporter down-stairs for the _Sunday Gorgon_, who wants five hundredwords from you which he is prepared to take down in shorthand. ShouldWives Work?"

"Should wives work?" I cried, ferociously. "Would they if they got achance? Oh, Bee, for heaven's sake, go down and tell him I'm out. Please, Bee. "

"No, just give me a few ideas, and I'll go down and enlarge on them, and make up your five hundred words. Your opinion is so valuable. Youdon't know a single thing about it!"

I got rid of her by some diplomacy, and returned to the Jimmies. 

_Mr. And Mrs. Jimmie at Canterbury_. 

"Never mind her, dear, " said Mrs. Jimmie. "Think what a beautiful, restful day we shall have to-morrow, wandering about Canterburycathedral. I can't think of a more beautiful way to spend Sunday. London is simply dreadful on Sunday. "

"London is simply dreadful at any time, " said Jimmie. "Everyrestaurant, even the Savoy, closes at midnight. I got shut into theCriterion the other evening in the grill, and had to come out throughthe hotel, and they unlocked more doors and unclanked more chains thanI've heard since I was the prisoner of Chillon. Talk about going wrongin London. You simply couldn't. Goodness is thrust upon you, if youare travelling. If you are a native and belong to the clubs--that'sdifferent. But the way they close things in England at the very timeof all others that you want them to be open--"

Bee entered. 

"Excuse me, " she said, in a whisper. Bee thinks if she whispers it isnot an interruption. "A committee from the Jewish Hospital would liketo know if Aubrey will present a set of his books to the HospitalLibrary. "

"If he does, that will be sixty dollars that he will have paid out thisweek, for his own books, for the privilege of giving them away. But asthis is the last hospital in town that he has _not_ contributed to, tell them yes, and then set the dog on them!" I said, savagely. 

"You poor thing!" said Bee. "It's a shame the way people torment you. "

Billy crowded past his mother, and climbed into my lap. 

"Tell me a story, dear Tattah, " said this born wheedler, patting myface with his little black paw. 

"No, now Billy--" began Bee. 

"Let him stay, " I cried, casting down my pen. "It is so seldom that hecuddles that I'll sacrifice myself upon the altar of aunthood. Well, once upon a time, Billy, there was a dear little blue hen who stoleaway--sit still now! You've more legs than a centipede!--who stoleaway every day and went under the barn where it was so cool and shady, and laid a lovely little smooth, cream-coloured egg. Then when she hadlaid it, she was so proud that she could never help coming out andcackling at the top of her voice, 'Cut-cut-cut-ka-dah-cut!' And thenthe lady of the house would run out and say, 'Oh, there's that naughtylittle blue hen cackling over a new-laid egg which I did want so muchto make an omelette, but I don't know where she has laid it. Thenaughty little blue hen!' So the poor lady would be obliged to use thered hen's eggs for the omelette, because the little blue hen laid_hers_ under the barn. 

"Well, after the little blue hen had laid six beautiful cream-colouredeggs, she began to sit on them day after day, covering them with herfeathers, and tucking her lovely little blue wings down around theedges of her nest to keep the eggs warm, and day after day she sat anddreamed of six darling little yellow, fluffy chickens with brown wingsand sparkling black eyes and dear little peepy voices, and she was sohappy in thinking of her little children that she was as patient aspossible, and never seemed to care that all the other hens and chickenswere running about in the warm yellow sunshine and snapping up livelylittle shiny bugs with their yellow beaks. 

"Well, after awhile, this dear little patient blue hen heard thefunniest little tapping, tapping, tapping under her wings. " Billy'seyes nearly bulged out of his head as he tapped the arm of the chair asI did. "And then she felt the most curious little fluttering under herwings--oh, Billy, _what_ do you think this little blue hen feltfluttering under her wings?"

"A _omelette_!" said Billy, excitedly. 

I finished the Jimmies as an anticlimax. 

_Mr. And Mrs. Jimmie at Canterbury_. 

It did not disturb Jimmie the next day to discover that CanterburyCathedral is _closed to visitors on Sunday_. 

_We_ saw it on Monday. 

After such a day it was no surprise to me to have Aubrey come home sodead tired that our strenuous evening was given up, and we all went outin Cary's new motor-car instead. 

CHAPTER XII

A LETTER FROM JIMMIE

Jimmie's "bread-and-butter" letter gave me such joy that I copy ithere, which shows how little I care for the conventions of life, inasmuch as I reproduce none of the others. Lady Mary's, Mrs. Jimmie's, Artie Beg's, Cary's, Sir Wemyss's, Captain Featherstone's, were all models of propriety, and, except that they are friends ofmine, I would add, of stupidity. Bee's--Bee's showed me a dozen waysin which I might have improved my hospitality, and hers, at least, doesnot come under the head of the name. But Jimmie's! Here it is:

"Wretched creature and your wholly irreproachable husband:

"Ordinarily I would simply write to say that I had had a bully goodtime at the iniquitous place where you hang out, and by so doing--wereI an ordinary man--would consider that I had paid my just debts and wasquits with the world--and with you. But not being ordinary--on thecontrary, and without undue pride, denominating myself as a mostextraordinary, rare, and orchid-like male creature, I feel that theappended narrative, albeit I do not figure therein as Sir Galahad orKing Arthur, is no more than your just due. I relinquish the steelhelmet and holy grail adjuncts, and exploit myself to your ribald gazeand half-witted laughter just as I is. 

"But first, let me rid myself of my obligations. I did enjoy everymoment of my stay, and I recall, with a particular and somewhatpardonable pride, that you, Faith, on one occasion, took off myshoes, --a menial duty which I shall hereafter exact of you wherever wemay be. Don't complain. It was yourself established the precedent, somewhat, if you will remember, against my will. 

"Aubrey, as usual, was all that was kind. 

"My duty now being done, I will proceed to narrate something which wildhorses could not draw from me for anybody but you. 

"To begin with, you have been told that we are building a house, andyou know how interested I am in all its details. For example, a pileof bricks had been left on the third floor, which plainly belonged tothe cellar. I had to come up on ladders, the hole for the stairwaysbeing left open. As the pulley for hoisting and lowering materials wasstill there, and an empty barrel stood invitingly near, I decided toassist Nature by lowering those bricks to their final resting-place. Itherefore filled the barrel with them, and hooked the barrel on to thepulley. 

"Now, Faith, as you have frequently remarked, I am thin, but just howthin I did not realize until I had yanked that barrel of bricks overthis yawning aperture. The first thing that attracted my attention wasthe bumping of my spine against the roof--or ceiling, or whatever washighest in the house. 

"I had presence of mind enough to kick at the barrel as I flew past it, so that it wouldn't dent my white waistcoat. The rope slid withviolence through my hands, taking my palms with it. As I was pastedtranquilly against the skylight, and wondering how I was to get down, the problem was at once solved for me, but not to my satisfaction, bythe bottom of the damned barrel giving out. Picture to yourself theconsequences. 

"The bricks being thus left on Mother Earth, I, with indescribablerapidity, having still hold of the rope, passed the staves in mid-air, as I hastily descended, lighting in a sitting posture on the pile ofbricks. The sensation, Faith and Aubrey, is not pleasant. 

"However, I possess a philosophic nature and a sense of humour. Irealized that the worst was over, and that I was well out of my scrape. I therefore released the rope, and fell to examining my bruises. Willyou believe it? Those wretched barrel-staves had no more considerationthan to descend crushingly upon my unprotected skull, and to removeportions of my ears in so doing. 

"I got out of there. I don't care for new houses, and carpenters mayleave bricks on the piano hereafter for all of me. 

"I have not told my wife. She is sensitive, and loves me. As neitherof these aspersions describe you and Aubrey, I am impelled to state theincident to you, hoping that it may give your ribald selves a moment'sdiversion. I called on Lady Mary at the Cambridge, and told this toher, and she laughed until she cried. Then she said:

"'Oh, Mr. Jimmie, promise me that you will tell the whole thing tomamma--just as you have told it to me!'

"Imagine telling this to the Duchess of Strowther!

"Again, I repeat, I enjoyed myself on your ranch. I particularlyenjoyed seeing Bee do the bucolic. 

"Give the enclosed to Billy, and tell the old man to buy something withit to remember me by. 

"And with kind remembrances to yourself and Aubrey, I am

"Your slave, "JIMMIE. "

CHAPTER XIII

THE BREAKING UP OF MARY

Prosperity disagrees with some people. But with Mary I have alwaysthought it was jealousy. 

As long as we had no one but her, and she practically ran the house andus, too, she was the same faithful, honest, sympathetic soul, who firstwon our young love at the Waldorf during our honeymoon, but after wecame to Peach Orchard and needed old Amos for the horses, and agardener, and two extra maids in the house, Mary's thrift took wings, and no Liande de Pougy or Otero could exceed her extravagance inordering things she did not want, and never could use. 

I noticed that the bills were becoming perfectly unbearable, and, neverdreaming that our good, faithful Mary could be at fault, --she, who usedto declare that she had walked ten blocks to find lettuce at eightcents a head instead of nine, and who never could be persuaded that hertime at home was worth far more to me than that extra cent, --I spoke tothe grocer and asked him what he meant by such prices. 

"It isn't the prices, Mrs. Jardine--it's the quantity you have beenordering. Are you running a hotel?"

"No, " I said. "Not that I know of. "

"Well, " he answered. "Look here; here's three gallons of olive-oilyou've ordered in one week. "

"Three gallons!" I gasped. "You mean three bottles. "

"No, ma'am! Three gallons!"

"Who ordered it?"

"That there old woman of yours, --the one that cusses so. "

"You mean Mary?" I asked, incredulously. 

"I don't know what her name is, but I know her tongue when I hear it. A white-haired old lady with specs. "

"That must be Mary, " I mused. 

"Well, 'm, she said Mr. Jardine ate salad twice a day, and needed lotsof oil. "

"So he does, " I observed, drily, "but he doesn't bathe in it. "

This pleasantry was quite lost on the grocer, for he hastened to agreewith me, with a--

"Sure he doesn't, " and a convincing wag of the head, as who should say, "Let no man accuse my friend, Mr. Jardine, of bathing in olive-oil, while I am about!"

It was very soothing. 

"Well, just send it back, Mrs. Jardine, " said he, presently, "it's ingallon cans and sealed. "

I went home with wrath in my soul, but intending to modify my bill byat least three gallons of olive-oil. To my horror, however, I foundthat Mary had opened all three cans, and filled, perhaps, but one cruetfrom each. 

Mary's face fell when I accusingly pointed this fact out to her. 

"I forgot that I had any, Missis dear, " she said, humbly. "I know youhate to run out of things. "

"So I do, " I said, severely, "but ten dollars' worth of olive-oil israther too much to forget at a time, and there is absolutely no excusefor your opening all three of them. "

"I know it, Missis dear. "

I opened my mouth to say more, but her penitence, her humility, thesight of her old white head, moved me. "Suppose, " I said to myself, "that, in addition to her extravagance, she was as impudent, as brazen, and as defiant as most servants? What would I do then?"

I turned away grateful for small mercies. 

Soon after this, we began to take our meals out-of-doors. I had made alittle lawn near the house, and surrounded it with a wire fencing, overwhich sweet peas were climbing. In the centre of this patch of grasswas spread a rug made of green denim, just the colour of the grass, andon this stood a dinner-table of weathered oak. Here, in fine weather, we took all our meals. Breakfast was served anywhere from six to ten, and by looking from your bedroom windows, you might see a man in whiteflannels, smoking a cigarette and reading the morning paper over coffeeor rolls or a dish of strawberries on thin green leaves. 

The women--until they had once tried the open-air breakfast--alwayspreferred their coffee in their rooms. But, if I do say it myself, Peach Orchard at six o'clock in the morning is the most beautiful spoton earth. (The Angel has just thoughtfully observed that for me thatis a very moderate statement. )

One day while Lady Mary and Sir Wemyss were with us, I made a lobstersalad for them. I always use nasturtium stems in the mayonnaise for alobster, and mix the blossoms in for garnishing and to serve it with. 

This suggested the colour scheme of yellow, so I decorated entirelywith nasturtiums, and, beginning with grapefruit, I planned a yellowluncheon throughout. 

The Angel had seen me fussing with things in the servants' dining-room, and knew that I had made a salad. I simply mention this to show why Icontinue to call him the Angel, though the honeymoon has waxed andwaned many, many times. 

Now I admit that _I_ am forgetful. I admit that _I_ am absent-minded, and I furthermore beg to state that with the Jimmies and the Beguelinsand Bee tearing subjects for conversation into mental rags and tattersfor the admiration and astonishment of the Lombards, I think I might beexcused for not noticing that Mary forgot the salad. She forgot it ascompletely as if salad had never dawned upon the culinary horizon. Thecook, not having made it, naturally dismissed it from _her_ mind, but_Mary_ had helped me make it. _Mary_ put it in the ice-box with herown hands. _Mary_ knew how I had worked over it. Drat her!

When all was over, the Angel strolled over to me and murmured:

"I thought you were making that salad for luncheon, dear. "

I sprang from my chair as if shot, and stared at him wildly. Heregarded me with alarm. 

"So I _was_!" I shrieked, in a whisper. I wrung my hands, and so greatwas my anguish that tears came into my eyes. 

"There! There, dearie!" said Aubrey, kindly. "Don't mind, littlegirl! It would have been too much with all the rest of your lovelyluncheon. It will go _much_ better tonight. "

"You are an angel, " I said, brokenly, "but I'll feel a little easier inmy mind after I have killed Mary. "

It was hot, but I ran all the way to the house. I found Mary. Thelight of battle was in my eye, and she quailed before I spoke. 

"Where was that lobster salad?" I demanded. 

She turned pale, and sank into a chair. I simply stood glaring at her. She peeked through her fingers to see if I were relenting as usual, butas I still looked blood-thirsty, she began to cry. She covered herhead with her apron, and rocked herself back and forth. 

"I forgot it, Missis dear! Kick me if you want to. I'll not say Idon't deserve it, but since I burst me stomach I can't rememberanything!"

"Since you _what_?" I gasped, in horror. 

Mary took down her apron in triumph, and looked as important as thoughshe had a funeral to go to. 

"Didn't you know, Missis? In my mother's last sickness--God rest hersoul!--I had to lift her every day, and I burst me stomach. The doctorsaid so. That's why I forget things!"

I stood staring at her. She was nodding her head, and smoothing herapron over her knees with a look of the greatest complacency. 

I thought of many, many things to say. And in several languages. Butall of them put together would have been inadequate, so, without oneword, I turned and walked slowly and thoughtfully away. 

That did not phase Mary in the least. She had looked for voluble andvaluable sympathy--such as generally pours from me on the slightestprovocation. She was so disappointed that she grew ugly and broke asoap-dish. 

"Aubrey, " I said to the Angel, "how is your memory connected with yourstomach?"

"Very nearly, " he answered, pleasantly. "My stomach reminds me of manythings, --when it's time to eat, and when it's time to drink. "

"So then, if anything happened to that reminder, you might forget evento get dinner if you were a cook, or to serve it if you were a butler?"

"Certainly. "

"I see, " I answered, thoughtfully. 

"If I might beg to inquire the wherefore of this thirst forinformation--" hazarded the Angel, politely. 

"Oh, nothing much. Only Mary says she has burst her stomach, andthat's why she forgets everything. "

Fortunately, Aubrey was sitting in his Morris chair. If he had flunghimself about in that manner on a bench, he would have broken his back. 

"Mary, " said Aubrey, when he could speak, "ought to go in a book. "

"Mary, " I said, with equal emphasis, "ought to go into an asylum. "

It was not long after that that old Katie, the cook, came up-stairs, and beckoned me from the room. 

"You said, Mrs. Jardine, that you'd never seen butter made. Now I'vegot the first churning from the Guernsey cow in the churn, and if youwould like to see it--"

She never finished the sentence, for I rushed past her so that she hadto follow me into the milk-room. (Bee wanted me to call it "thedairy. ")

I sat by while Katie churned and told stories. Then while she wasturning it out, and I was raving over the colour of it, I heard asuspicious sniffing behind me, and behold, there was Mary, with herapron to her eyes, murmuring, brokenly, "My poor dear mother! Oh, mypoor dear mother!"

Seeing that she had attracted my attention, she walked away, stumblingover the threshold to emphasize her grief. 

"What's the matter with Mary, Mrs. Jardine?" asked old Katie, wonderingly. 

"Her mother used to churn, she told me, and I suppose it brings it allback to her to see you churn, " I said, with as straight a face as Icould muster. 

"Dear me!" said Katie, in high disgust. "_I_ had a mother and _she_used to churn, but it doesn't turn me into salt water every time I hearthe dasher going!"

Katie is a shrewd woman, so I said nothing in answer to that. FinallyKatie lifted her chin--a way she had--and added:

"I'm thinking it sits bad on her mind to see you in here with me, instead of with her!"

As I still said nothing, she apparently repented herself, for she said, a moment later:

"But Mary was mighty fond of her old father and mother. She keepsmementoes of them ahl over the place. She has now what she calls hisPolean pitcher--"

"His what?"

"Shure _I_ don't know! But she says it is. It's got a man on theoutside, and you pours out of his three-cornered hat. "

"Oh, yes, " I said. "I remember now. What did you say she called it?"

"There it is now, on the shelf above your head. But how it got there, _I_ don't know. And Mary would be throwing fits if she saw it. "

"Why?"

"Because she says her father used to send her every night, when she wasa little girl, to get his Polean pitcher filled with beer. She saysshe minds him every time she looks at it--Gahd rest his soul. "

I turned and looked at the little squat figure of Napoleon. It was thepitcher the little man had given Mary for getting our trade for him, when we were first married. 

"She cried once when I put some cream in it to make pot-cheese, " saidKatie. "And she emptied it and washed it and kissed it; then she stoodit on th' shelf with her picture of the Pope that you gave her. "

Just then Mary, as if suspecting something, appeared at the door. Shelooked suspiciously from one to the other. 

"I was just afther telling the Missis, Mary, how careful you are of thePolean pitcher you used to rush the growler with for your poor dearfather, " said Katie, with a shy grin that was gone before we fairly sawit. 

Mary turned away without a word. She never spoke to me on the subject, nor I to her. 

The next day a gipsy fortune-teller came to Peach Orchard, and told thefortunes of all the servants. She predicted a rich husband for Katie, and a fit of sickness for Mary. I think she could not have pleasedeach better. 

That night we were sitting in the Angel's porch-study, when the mostdreadful howls and groans began to emanate from the kitchen. We allhurried to the scene, and there, prone upon the floor, lay Mary, weeping and twitching herself and moaning that she was going to die. 

"It's the fortune-teller, " said Katie in my ear. But Aubrey heard. 

"Get up, Mary!" he said, sternly. (I did not know the Angel _could_ beso stern. )

To the surprise of all of us, Mary obediently scrambled to her feet. 

"Now go to your room, and go properly to bed. Katie will help you. Then I shall telephone for the doctor. "

Mary began to look frightened. 

"Don't send for the doctor, Boss dear, " she pleaded. "I'll be bettersoon. These attacks don't mean anything. "

"The gipsy predicted that you were going to have a fit of sickness, andI believe it has come, " said Aubrey, seriously. "Take her to bedquickly, Katie. I don't want her to die in the kitchen. "

The two old women stumbled up the back stairway together. 

"Oh, Aubrey, what is it?" I whispered. 

"It is the breaking up of Mary, " said the Angel when we were alone. "It has been going on for some time. Either jealousy, or old age, orimagination, or incipient insanity has seized our poor oldservant-friend, and well-nigh wrecked her. I have tried variousremedies, but all have failed. I didn't want to bother you with itbefore, but the fact is, Faith dear, Mary must go. She has outlivedher usefulness with us. "

"I've been afraid of it for some time, " I answered. "But it seems toobad. She has been with us through some strenuous times, Aubrey. "

"I know, dear, and I have no idea of turning the old creature adrift. The last time I was in town I spoke to Doctor North and arranged tosend Mary to his sanatorium for a month. "

"You are good, Aubrey. "

Aubrey smoked in silence for a few moments. 

"Yes, Mary has been with us through deep waters and hard fights, andnever has she flinched. Perhaps it is her nature. Perhaps she justcan't stand the lameness of prosperity. "

In a day or two we sent Mary to Doctor North's sanatorium, a badlyscared and deeply repentant old woman, and Aubrey wired Doctor North:

"Is this a genuine case, or is she faking?"

The answer came back:

"Faking. "

Poor Mary! She escaped from the sanatorium on the third day. But wenever saw her again, and though we often write to her and send herthings, she never answers. 

I think it was the "Polean pitcher. "

CHAPTER XIV

AND THEY LIVED HAPPY EVER AFTER

End of the story--end of the chapter--end of the book!

And what could be more satisfactory than the ending of the oldfairy-tales, --"and so they were married, and lived happy ever after"?Not for them the strenuous adjustment of temper and temperament, ofextravagance and poverty, with the divorce court at the end of thesecond year. In the blessed tales of one's childhood, they married andlived happily. 

Ay, and for ever after!

It is a long time, --but I look forward to it without fear, yea, evenwith gladness. Not that I would so dare, did it depend upon _my_temper, _my_ moods, _my_ days of ailing and depression, but ah, Idepend upon my husband's. He has his days of ailing and depression, but I never know of them until they are past. He has his illnesses, but he conceals them from me. If things go wrong, his face only growsbrighter for my eyes to rest upon, nor is he ever too busy or toopreoccupied to stop his work and soothe my nervous fears. Disagreeablepeople are not allowed to annoy me. Disagreeable letters are held overuntil their sting has grown less. Disagreeable remarks are robbed oftheir venom by his kindly interpretation. He stands as a bulwarkbetween me and the world. 

"And so they were married, and lived happily ever after. "

To live happily means for one or the other to ignore self. Aubrey isthe epitome of selflessness. So that I claim no credit for thenoiseless wheels of our domestic machinery, for over trifles I aminclined to go up in a puff of vapour and blue smoke, and I love my ownway. 

But somehow, after a year or two of seeing Aubrey give his way up tomine, without a frown or a word of remonstrance, and with such a lookof unfathomable love in his wonderful eyes, I rather lost the taste fordemanding my own way. Even when I got it some of its flavour haddisappeared. Was I contrary? I do not know. I only knew that I beganto pretend--I had to pretend, or Aubrey would not have allowed it--towant the things that he wanted, and to want them done in the way heliked. And with such a rich reward! Do all sacrifices made for lovecarry with them such immediate and rich rewards, I wonder? Can I everforget the Angel's face when it dawned upon him that I was giving up myway for his? He realized it first as he was standing in front of me, filling his pipe. I saw it come first into his eyes, then tremble uponhis sensitive lips, then he threw aside his precious pipe and kneltdown beside my chair, and gathered me all up in his arms, and hid hisface in my shoulder. What he said I shall never tell to any one, but Ishall remember it in my grave, and it will be surging in my ears in theother world. Is sacrifice hard for one you love?

"And so they were married, and lived happily ever after. "

That, in the old-fashioned story, was the end of everything. Marriedlove evidently took no hold upon the youthful imagination, or upon thatof our little selves. We wanted all the anguish to come to the unwed, and the happiness and dulness of unchanging bliss to descend upon thebridal pair. 

Then somebody discovered that marriage was not the end; it was only thebeginning, and somebody acted on this wonderful discovery and began totell the varying fortunes of those stupid, cut and dried, buried andlaid away persons, the bride and groom, whom we had hitherto partedwith at the church door. It was as if the carriage door slammed upontheir happiness, and ended their career. Their ultimate fate was forever settled. They died to the world with the hurling of the rice, andvanished from the sight of readers with the casting of the old shoe. 

Then we learned that life began with marriage. Has our taste changed, or have we only awakened to the truth?

Ask any woman who is happily married, and see if she says she can everremember anything before she became a wife. I remember that certainthings did happen before I met Aubrey, but I recall them as I sometimestry to tell him a dream which is indistinct and somewhat unreal. 

But that is because I have found, out of all the world, my mate. 

How does any one dare to marry? As I look around me, at the mistakesother women have made, I wonder that I had the courage to marry eventhe Angel. For supposing he hadn't been the right man! I'd have beendead by this time, so there's that comfort anyway. 

But he was!

To those who know the Angel, I need say no more. And even to those whonever have seen him, and never will know him except in this chronicle, the wonder of it can never cease, for so few women, out of all the menin the universe, find their mates, as I have found mine. 

Men propose and women marry, but the misfits are palpable all throughlife to others, and frequently to themselves. They look back andwonder, when it is too late, how they ever imagined that they couldlive together without wanting to murder each other daily. Yet theyconsole themselves with the thought that theirs is only an ordinarymarriage, containing no more jarring notes than most. Yet if they everstopped to think what might have been--if they dared look into theinner chamber where hope lies dead, they would wonder that their miserywas not so stamped upon their faces that people would turn to look atthem in the street and stare at the hopelessness of their broken lives. Do the unhappily married ever dare pause to think of the real mate ofeach, lost somewhere in the wide world, perhaps going about, everseeking, seeking, perhaps greatly mismated and equally unhappy?

 "Two shall be born the whole wide world apart And each in different tongues and have no thought Each of the other's being and no heed; And these, o'er unknown seas to unknown lands Shall cross, escaping wreck, defying death And all unconsciously shape every act And send each wandering step to this one end That, one day, out of darkness they shall meet And read life's meaning in each other's eyes. 

 "And two shall walk some narrow way of life So nearly side by side, that should one turn Ever so little space to left or right They needs must stand acknowledged face to face. And yet, with wistful eyes that never meet, With groping hands that never clasp, and lips Calling in vain to ears that never hear They seek each other all their weary days And die unsatisfied--and this is Fate!"

When I realize the beautiful and terrible truth of these two verses, Igrow dumb with terror, and turn filled to overflowing with gratitudethat, no matter what others may have done or will do; in spite of sadbooks and mournful plays; in spite of winter winds and illness andsorrow and the bitter disappointment of hope deferred; in spite ofbodily ills and heart sickness and the times when even the strongestsoul faints by the roadside, no matter what betide, I can always turnmy face homeward, and there will be Aubrey.