od was
the thing.

He asked her many times if she wouldn't come into town and lunch, or
have tea, and they would go home together; but she explained
convincingly if mysteriously:

"You see, dear, this first day, I'll have to _get straight_," and
he went off alone.

Marie fell to work in the greatest spirits. She was armoured with the
rubber gloves and the housemaid's gloves and a chic pinafore. As she
worked she sang. Of course, a woman must have something to occupy a
little of her day. Marie hastened about these tasks cheerfully, and
before she was through them her mother came.

Her anxious look at her girl was dispelled by the brightness in the
bride's face. The small home was very snug; it maintained a high tone
of comfort and elegance. Mrs. Amber sat down by the dining-room fire
and drew off her gloves and said:

"Now tell me all about it, duck."

"All about what?" said Marie.

"The honeymoon," said Mrs. Amber.

Marie looked at her mother as if she were mad. She smiled at the fire.
"We had a lovely time," she replied evasively.

"And had that man lighted the fires yesterday? I couldn't get
round--"

"It was all absolutely ready, thank you, mother."

"I brought the things the day before, except the cream. That I told
him to get. And the flowers. I don't see the flowers, love."

"They are mostly in the drawing-room," said Marie.

"I should like to see the drawing-room now it's finished," said Mrs.
Amber, rising eagerly.

In the small room of pale hues she stood satisfied, almost entranced.
But she had those sad things to say which occur inevitably to elderly
women of domestic avocations.

"This white paint! You'll have something to do, my child, keeping it
clean. It marks so. I know that. Yes, it's pretty, but this time next
year I hope you won't be sorry you had it. But of course, just for the
two of you--well, you'll both have to be careful. You'll have to warn
Osborn, my dear. Men need reminding so often."

"Osborn is rather different from most men," said Marie. "He is so very
thoughtful; he made me some tea early this morning, and did the
dining-room grate, and lighted the geyser, and everything."

"That won't last, my dear," replied Mrs. Amber, in a tone of quiet
authority, but not lamenting.

"Osborn is not a man who changes, mother," said Marie.

"The chintz is a little light; it will show marks almost as much as
the paint, I'm afraid, duck," Mrs. Amber continued. "I don't know if
it