te! Eliza!"

"They're sick--I mean he's sick; and I said I'd do it. I'd be an oak.
But how did I know there wasn't anything in the house except stuff that
took hours to cook--only potatoes? And how did I know that _they_ cooked
in no time, and then got all smushy and wet staying in the water? And
how did I know that everything else would stick on and burn on till
you'd used every dish there was in the house to cook 'em in?"

"Why, Billy!" gasped Bertram, for the third time. And then, because
he had been married only six months instead of six years, he made the
mistake of trying to argue with a woman whose nerves were already at the
snapping point. "But, dear, it was so foolish of you to do all this! Why
didn't you telephone? Why didn't you get somebody?"

Like an irate little tigress, Billy turned at bay.

"Bertram Henshaw," she flamed angrily, "if you don't go up-stairs and
tend to that man up there, I shall _scream_. Now go! I'll be up when I
can."

And Bertram went.

It was not so very long, after all, before Billy came in to greet her
guest. She was not stately and imposing in royally sumptuous blue velvet
and ermine; nor yet was she cozy and homy in bronze-gold crepe de
Chine and swan's-down. She was just herself in a pretty little morning
house gown of blue gingham. She was minus the dust-cap and the ruffled
apron, but she had a dab of flour on the left cheek, and a smutch of
crock on her forehead. She had, too, a cut finger on her right hand,
and a burned thumb on her left. But she was Billy--and being Billy,
she advanced with a bright smile and held out a cordial hand--not even
wincing when the cut finger came under Calderwell's hearty clasp.

"I'm glad to see you," she welcomed him. "You'll excuse my not appearing
sooner, I'm sure, for--didn't Bertram tell you?--I'm playing Bridget
to-night. But dinner is ready now, and we'll go down, please," she
smiled, as she laid a light hand on her guest's arm.

Behind her, Bertram, remembering the scene in the kitchen, stared in
sheer amazement. Bertram, it might be mentioned again, had been married
six months, not six years.

What Billy had intended to serve for a "simple dinner" that night was:
grapefruit with cherries, oyster stew, boiled halibut with egg sauce,
chicken pie, squash, onions, and potatoes, peach fritters, a "lettuce
and stuff" salad, and some new pie or pudding. What she did serve was:
grapefruit (without the cherries), cold roast lamb, potatoe