lk, honest I have."

"Yes, dear. You haven't been quite so frightful lately."

"Y' see, Hermy, you're different; you went to a swell school an'--"

"And you never did--I know, dear. But oh, Arthur, I did the best I
could."

"And a lot better than I deserved," said he, reaching out to pat her
hand caressingly. "When I get a good job, I'll stay in nights and study
hard like you want me to--I sure will."

"Yes, dear, and you'll soon be heaps cleverer than I am," said she,
stooping to kiss his curly head as she tied the apron about her shapely
hips; and then, giving him a smiling nod, she vanished into the kitchen,
while Spike laboured through the long columns headed "Help Wanted." And
presently, as she moved light-footed to and fro in the kitchen, he heard
her singing softly to herself, an old, old song of other days that had
often been his lullaby when he was a small, motherless armful of
sleepiness hushed in her young, protecting clasp.

"Arthur!" she called.

"Hello!" he answered.

"Are you hungry?"

"You bet I am!"

A long pause, whereafter ensued the following conversation between
kitchen and parlour:

Hermione. "Boy dear!"

Spike. "Hello!"

Hermione. "Be a dear and lay the cloth for me!"

Spike. "Right-o!"

A longer pause, during which Spike rises and takes cloth from sideboard
drawer.

Hermione. "Arthur!"

Spike. "Yes?"

Hermione. "Where did you meet him?"

Spike (starting). "Who?"

Hermione. "Mr. Geoffrey. How did you happen to meet each other?"

Another pause, while Spike stands frowning in perplexed thought.

Spike. "Where did you say the cloth was?"

Hermione. "In the sideboard drawer. How long have you known
him?"

Spike (beginning to lay the cloth feverishly). "Oh, a goodish
time. Say, Hermy, he sure likes your name a whole lot!"

Hermione. "Oh!" (A very small pause.) "Likes my name, does he?"

Spike. "He sure does. He told me so."

Hermione. "Oh!" (Another small pause.) "Just what did he say,
boy dear?"

Spike. "He said it was Greek an' very beautiful, an' then I said
it kind of fitted you because you were aces up on the face an' figure
question."

A rush of petticoats, and enter Hermione, flushed and laughing.

"You dear boy!" she cried, "for that you shall be kissed!" which he was
forthwith; after which she turned to the mirror to smooth back a
shining tress of hair--that same rebellious curl that glistened above
her fine, black eyebrow.

"Where did you say you f