llow, he did so hate the work out at Matoaca City, though I must say
he was very faithful and persevering about it."

"You've taken that little house in Prince Street for them, where old
Miss Franklin used to live, haven't you? The last time I saw you, you
hadn't quite decided about it."

"I couldn't resist it because it is only three squares from the rectory.
Mr. Pendleton set his heart on it from the first minute."

"Well, I'm so glad," said Susan, shifting the small basket of fruit she
carried from one arm to the other, "and I'll certainly run in and see
them this evening--I suppose they'll be at the rectory for supper?"

"Why, no. Jinny said she couldn't bear to be away from the children the
first night, so we are all going there. I shall send Docia over to cook
supper before they get here, and I've just been to market to see if I
could find anything that Oliver would particularly like. He used to be
so fond of sweetbreads."

"Mr. Dewlap has some very nice ones. I got one for mother. She hasn't
been well for the last few days."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Give her my love and tell her I'll come down
just as soon as I get Jinny settled. I've been so taken up getting the
house ready that I haven't thought of another thing for three weeks."

"When will Oliver's play be put on in New York?" asked Susan, turning
back after they had parted.

"In three weeks. He is going back again for the last rehearsals. I wish
Jinny could go with him, but I don't believe she would spend a night
away from the children for anything on earth."

"Isn't it beautiful that her marriage has turned out so well?"

"Yes, I don't believe she could be any happier if she tried, and I must
say that Oliver makes a much better husband than I ever thought he
would. I never heard them disagree the whole time I was there. Of
course, Jinny gives up to him in everything except where the children
are concerned, but, then, a woman always expects to do that. One thing
I'm certain of--he couldn't have found a better wife if he'd searched
the world over. She never thinks of herself a minute, and you know how
fond she used to be of pretty clothes and of fixing herself up. Now,
she simply lives in Oliver and the children, and she is the proudest
thing of his plays! The rector says that she thinks he is Shakespeare
and Milton rolled into one."

"Nothing could be nicer," said Susan, "and it is all such a happy
surprise to me. Of course, I always thought Oli