et _him_ know it, not until he gets on
his feet--not while he's only making fifteen dollars here and twenty
dollars there, and some weeks not even that, painting labels for tomato
cans and patent medicines. It does seem a pity that, after all the
studying in Paris and winning the prize for his portraits in the Salon,
it should take him so long to get a start here. I suppose you have to
have a 'pull,' as in everything else. If he once knew that I really
cared for him he'd lose his head and want to be married out of hand. I
couldn't do a thing with him. He'd insist that it would help him to work
if I were near all the time."

"Perhaps it would," suggested Kitty.

"Yes, and have all his family say that I've ruined his prospects--you
can imagine how pleasant _that_ would be! Everyone says that if a poor
artist is hampered at the beginning he has no career at all. _I_ enjoy
things as they are, anyway, and if Kersley doesn't it's his own lookout.
He's a perfect baby, great, big, blue-eyed, ridiculous, unpractical
thing! What do you suppose he did when he was in Chester last month,
just after I'd left there? Walked all the way into town and back, twenty
miles--he hadn't enough money for his car fare--to buy me a little
trumpery pin I wanted, when they had the identical thing on sale at the
little shop by the station! Wasn't that like him? And with all his
artistic talent, I have to tell him what kind of a necktie to get.
Imagine him, with _his_ hair, in a scarlet one, when he looks so
adorable in dull blue. Let's change the subject. Is this your best
centerpiece, with the color all washed out?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll finish that lace one I'm making and put yellow under it.
Yellow is to be the color scheme, Kitty. I'm going to present you with
some of those lovely glasses I saw at Ketterer's, with gilt flowers on
them. I want you to let me pay for the chrysanthemums and all the
extras--a few palms can be hired; they add so much to the effect. You
know I got the money for those illustrations yesterday, and I don't care
whether I have any clothes or not. I just want to do my prettiest for a
Thanksgiving for Mrs. Devereaux."

"Very well, dear," said Kitty.

"I should think that woman wouldn't want such a time made over her,"
said Mr. Fosdyke to his wife, disgustedly, in private. There are married
men who may on occasion be mistaken for bachelors, but Mr. Fosdyke was
not of that ilk; the respectable bondage of one wedded to fam