but she always kept the piano open. Bo-peep suggested buying a
pianola, and Mrs. Martin thought it would be a good idea.

"We'll have all the comic operas on it," said Bo-peep; "nothing of the
classic order for me--nothing over-my-head, but the popular tunes,
plenty of them--no stint. What do you say, Little-sing?"

Little-sing replied that it would be charming; but in her heart she
somewhat shuddered, and was glad that the pianola was still a thing to
be purchased.

Tildy had been turned into a very presentable little parlor-maid.
There was also a first-rate cook, for Martin was fond of the pleasures
of the table. On the whole, the little household was comfortable, and
Mrs. Martin enjoyed her life. She had some cards printed with her new
name and address, and the notification that she was "at home" on the
third, fourth, and fifth of each month. Tildy was very much excited
about these At Home days; but the first month after Mrs. Martin's
marriage passed without a single individual calling upon her.

Mrs. Martin had been settled for over six weeks, and the day of Queen
Maggie's great reception at the school in Kensington was drawing on
apace. Mrs. Martin was in a state of subdued excitement. She was
dressed in her best. Her best consisted of a light fawn-colored silk
with velvet trimmings of the same. The silk rustled as she walked. On
her fingers were many rings of much brilliancy, and she wore a small
diamond brooch at her throat. The reason of all this festive attire
was a simple one, a good one, a domestic one. James Martin was coming
home. He had been in Liverpool, engaged on special business, for the
greater part of a week; but he was now returning to his beloved
Little-sing, who had missed him, and he was pleased to feel that he
would be with her again. She knew his tastes to a nicety, and had
desired the cook to prepare a very special dinner for his
delectation.

"Beef-steak pudding, cook," she said, "with mutton kidneys, and plenty
of oysters; and be sure the crust is very light."

Cook replied that if she did not know how to make beef-steak pudding
she ought immediately to leave her "perfession." She was a stout,
red-faced woman, and had a way of frightening Mrs. Martin, who
generally retreated from the kitchen premises as quickly as possible.

"Very well," said Mrs. Martin; "I am glad you quite understand. You
know that my husband is very particular. Then we'll have potatoes and
fried mushrooms, and I