this daughter-in-law who had burst out of a fair cloud upon her--a
daughter-in-law whom she would never recognize--what were they doing?
Cautiously, ever so cautiously, she pushed open the pantry door till
there was a slight crack giving into the other room.

Jack had his arms about Mary's shoulders.

"Well, little lady," she heard him ask with tremulous fondness--the
young fool!--"What do you think of our honeymoon?"

"I think, sir, that it's something scandalous!" (Not such an
unpleasant voice--but then!)

"U'm! Has the fact occurred to you"--very solemnly--"that you haven't
kissed me since we have been in this room?"

"Was it written in the bond that I had to kiss you in every room?"

"No matter about the bond. A kiss or a divorce. Take your choice."

"It isn't worth divorcing you, since you may be too poor to pay
alimony. So"--sighing and turning her face up to him.

(Sentimental idiots!)

"Mary"--after a moment of clinging lips--"you think you can really be
happy with me?"

"I know I shall be, dear!"

"Even if things don't go right between mother and me, and even if for
a long time I shall be awfully, awfully poor?"

"It's just you I care for, Jack,--just you!"

Jack stared at her; then suddenly:

"Do you know what I feel like?"

"No."

"Like kissing you again."

"Now don't be--"

"Mary!"

His voice was tremulous. Slowly their lips came together; they
embraced; then drew apart, and holding hands, stood gazing at each
other.

"You're a dear, dear fool!" said Mary softly.

"And you're a dear, dear another!" softly said Jack.

(Outrageous fools, both! agreed Mrs. De Peyster.)

They were still gazing at each other when in the wide doorway at their
back appeared Matilda, carrying the tray of tea-things that had been
in Mrs. De Peyster's sitting-room. For the last few moments Mrs. De
Peyster's danger had been forgotten in her indignation. But at sight
of Matilda, regained its own.

Matilda stopped short. The tea-things almost rattled from the tray.
Jack wheeled about.

"Hello, Matilda. Thought you'd gone down to the kitchen."

"Why--why--if it isn't Mr. Jack!" stammered Matilda.

Mrs. De Peyster trembled. What more likely than that Matilda, in her
amazement, should reveal the house's secret? But the half-light of the
room was a very obliging ally against such unsuspicion as her son's.

"Of course, it's Jack," said he. "Who else did you suppose it was? But
say, what's the matter, Mat