ave everything else."

"You always shall have."

"What was the kitchen like?" Marie asked. "Was it tidy?"

"It's the smartest little place."

"I'll see it presently, when we wash-up."

"_You're_ not going to wash-up."

"But, Osborn, I shall have to, often. Every day, you know."

He looked a trifle unhappy over this, knitting his brows. Of course,
they had both known that the moment would come when Marie would handle
a dishcloth in the best interests of Number Thirty, but it had seemed
somewhat remote in those queer, forgotten unmarried days more than a
fortnight ago; more than ever remote during the stay in an hotel
palace.

"Yes, yes," he said, "I suppose so. I wish you needn't, though."

"I shan't mind. A little housework is very simple; people make such a
fuss about it; mother makes a horrible fuss. I shall always wear
gloves."

"That partly solves it," said Osborn nodding eagerly, "rubber gloves
for wet work, and housemaid's gloves for dry, eh, dearest? You will
always, won't you? You must let me buy you all the gloves you want."

"I have enough to begin with."

"You are a thoughtful little genius."

"We'll have to cook dinner to-night."

"Oh, great work!" cried Osborn.

"I intend to run this flat in a thoroughly up-to-date way," Marie
explained; "that's the secret of a comfortable household without help,
you know--to be entirely up-to-date."

The husband looked immensely impressed.

"I believe you," he said.

The clock struck five, and six, before they rose reluctantly. It would
have been rather nice, of course, just to press a bell and give one's
orders, but....

On her way to the kitchen, Marie peeped into the bedroom. She switched
up the light and looked it over, well pleased. Soon, when she had
unpacked, her dressing-table would be furnished with all her pretty
things, tortoiseshell and silver, big glass powder-puff bowl, big
glass bowl and spoon with scented salts for her bath, and the manicure
set of super-luxury which a girl friend had given her on her marriage.
She was really adorably equipped; she was starting so very, very well.
Her glance fell upon the two beds, side by side, much-pillowed,
pink-quilted.

It would be rather nice if there was a housemaid to whip in every
evening and turn down the sheets and lay out the night wear; but....

One can't have everything.

"I think we're quite all right here?" said Osborn over her shoulder,
with pride in his voice.

"Isn't it all