impatience in her voice. Buck found himself, once or
twice, fairly caught in a little whirlpool of ill temper of his own
making. These conditions they discovered almost simultaneously. And
like the comrades they were, they talked it over and came to a sensible
understanding.

"We're a bit ragged and saw-edged," said Emma. "We're getting on each
other's nerves. What we need is a vacation from each other. This
morning I found myself on the verge of snapping at you. At you!
Imagine, T. A.!"

Whereupon Buck came forward with his confession.

"It's a couple of late cases of spring fever. You've been tied to this
office all winter. So've I. We need a change. You've had too much
petticoats, too much husband, too much cutting room and sales-room and
rush orders and business generally. Too much Featherloom and not
enough foolishness." He came over and put a gentle hand on his wife's
shoulder, a thing strictly against the rules during business hours.
And Emma not only permitted it but reached over and covered his hand
with her own. "You're tired, and you're a wee bit nervous; so g'wan,"
said T. A., ever so gently, and kissed his wife, "g'wan; get out of
here!"

And Emma got.

She went, not to the mountains or the seashore but with her face to the
west. In her trunks were tiny garments--garments pink-ribboned,
blue-ribboned, things embroidered and scalloped and hemstitched and
hand-made and lacy. She went looking less grandmotherly than ever in
her smart, blue tailor suit, her rakish hat, her quietly correct
gloves, and slim shoes and softly becoming jabot. Her husband had got
her a compartment, had laden her down with books, magazines, fruit,
flowers, candy. Five minutes before the train pulled out, Emma looked
about the little room and sighed, even while she smiled.

"You're an extravagant boy, T. A. I look as if I were equipped for a
dash to the pole instead of an eighteen-hour run to Chicago. But I
love you for it. I suppose I ought to be ashamed to confess how I like
having a whole compartment just for myself. You see, a compartment
always will spell luxury to me. There were all those years on the
road, you know, when I often considered myself in luck to get an upper
on a local of a branch line that threw you around in your berth like a
bean in a tin can every time the engineer stopped or started."

Buck looked at his watch, then stooped in farewell. Quite suddenly
they did not want to part. Th