and a
housekeeper.

"This housekeeper, this Mrs. Lowell," said he to Dorothy, "is a good
enough person as housekeepers go. But you will have to look sharply
after her."

Dorothy seemed to fade and shrink within herself, which was her way of
confessing lack of courage and fitness to face a situation: "I don't
know anything about those things," she confessed.

"I understand perfectly," said he. "But you learned something at the
place in Jersey City--quite enough for the start. Really, all you need
to know just now is whether the place is clean or not, and whether the
food comes on the table in proper condition. The rest you'll pick up
gradually."

"I hope so," said she, looking doubtful and helpless; these new
magnitudes were appalling, especially now that she was beginning to get
a point of view upon life.

"At any rate, don't bother me for these few next months," said he. "I'm
going to be very busy--shall leave early in the morning and not be back
until near dinner time--if I come at all. No, you'll not be annoyed by
me. You'll be absolute mistress of your time."

She tried to look as if this contented her. But he could not have failed
to see how dissatisfied and disquieted she really was. He had the best
of reasons for thinking that she was living under the same roof with him
only because she preferred the roof he could provide to such a one as
she could provide for herself whether by her own earnings or by marrying
a man more to her liking personally. Yet here she was, piqued and
depressed because of his indifference--because he was not thrusting upon
her gallantries she would tolerate only through prudence!

"You will be lonely at times, I'm afraid," said he. "But I can't provide
friends or even acquaintances for you for several months--until my
affairs are in better order and my sister and her husband come back from
Europe."

"Oh, I shan't be lonely," cried she. "I've never cared for people."

"You've your books, and your music--and riding--and shopping trips to
town--and the house and grounds to look after."

"Yes--and my dreams," said she hopefully, her eyes suggesting the dusky
star depths.

"Oh--the dreams. You'll have little time for them," said he drily. "And
little inclination, I imagine, as you wake up to the sense of how much
there is to be learned. Dreaming is the pastime of people who haven't
the intelligence or the energy to accomplish anything. If you wish to
please me--and you do--don't