e were rising to the occasion. When we got home I was too tired
to notice things, but my sister, who sees everything, whispered:

"I verily believe they've put down a new stair-carpet to-day."

The next morning such a sight met our astonished eyes. There was a new
carpet on the hall. There were new curtains in our drawing-room. All
the covers had been removed from their sacred furniture. Brass
andirons replaced the old ones. The piano had a new cover. There was a
rocking-chair for each (we had only one before), and while we were
still speechless with amazement Mrs. Black came in with our bill.

"I have been thinking this over since yesterday, and I have decided
that as long as you did not understand about the extras, it would be
no more than right that I should take them off. So I owe you this."

I took the money, and it dropped from my nerveless fingers. Mrs. Black
picked it up and put it on the table--the mahogany table.

"You see I propped your palms for you in your absence, and I repotted
four of them. I thought they would grow better. Here are some
periodicals I sent to the library for, thinking you might like to look
at them, and I put my new calendar over your writing-desk. Now, is
there any little delicacy you would like for your luncheon?"

While Bee was getting rid of her I made a few rapid mental
calculations.

"Bee," I said, "we are going to stay over here two years. Let's buy
the Duke and take him with us."

* * * * *

The reaction has come. I knew it would. It always does. It is a
mortification to be obliged to admit it in the face of London,
and all that we have had done for us, but the fact is we are
homesick--wretchedly, bitterly homesick. I remember how, when other
people have been here and written that they were homesick, I have
sniffed with contempt and have said to myself, "What poor taste! Just
wait until _my_ turn comes to go to Europe! I'll show them what it is
to enjoy every moment of my stay!"

But now--dear me, I can remember that I have made invidious remarks
about New York, and have objected to the odors in Chicago, and have
hated the Illinois Central turnstiles. But if I could be back in
America I would not mind being caught in a turnstile all day. Dear
America! Dear Lake Michigan! Dear Chicago!

I have talked the matter over with my sister, and we have decided that
it must be the people, for certainly the novelty is not yet worn off
of this marve