ily claims
was stamped upon him as with a die, in spite of a humorous tendency that
was sometimes trying to his wife. "What's the sense? With all her
millions she must be used to everything. I should think she'd like
something plain and homelike for a change, instead of all this fuss and
feathers. I'm worn out with it already. There seems to be a perfect
upheaval downstairs, with all Marcia's decorations and color schemes and
'artistic effects.' My arm's broken lugging loving cups home from the
bank--they weigh a ton. Why can't Mrs. Devereaux take us as we are?"

"Now, Frank, I've told you how Marcia feels about it," said his wife,
reprovingly. "You know how intense she is--it gives her positive
satisfaction to show her gratitude by working her fingers off and
spending all the money she's got. She wants to make it a special
occasion."

"Well, she's doing it," said Frank Fosdyke, with, however, a relenting
smile; he was fond of whole-souled little Marcia. "I say, though, Kitty,
what's Kersley doing here all the time? I thought he was living in New
York. I can't go anywhere that I don't see that big smile of his and the
gray suit. I'm always running across him with Marcia. It makes me feel
like a fool. Am I to treat them as if they were engaged, or not?"

Mrs. Fosdyke shook her head. "Not yet."

"Can't he stop her shillyshallying?"

"Frank, I said 'Not yet.'"

"All right," said Frank, resignedly, moving around the darkened room, as
he disrobed, with the catlike step of one whose ever haunting fear is
that he may wake the baby.

Marcia had decreed against the old-fashioned, middle-of-the-day
Thanksgiving dinner; half-past seven was early enough. "And it ought to
be eight," she added, ruefully. "At any rate, the babies will be asleep,
and Mrs. Fogarty is going to let her Maggie come and sit upstairs with
them. Thank goodness, Ellen can cook the dinner, with my help, and wait
on the table afterward. She's as nice and interested as she can be, and
I'll keep her in good humor. I've promised to buy her a lovely new cap
and apron. We've just decided what to have for the nine courses."

"_Nine courses!_"

"Now, Kitty, it's no more trouble to have nine courses than two, if you
manage properly. I'll make a number of the dishes the day before, and
Ellen can see to the turkey herself; I'll show you my bill of fare
afterward. I'm going to have the loveliest little menu cards, with
golden pumpkins in wheat sheaves painted on