indow for the pretty
view they had from their corner room. Mrs. Hilary pulled her head back
from the prospect of the railroad-ridden avenue with silent horror, and
Louise burst into a wild laugh. "Well, it _isn't_ Commonwealth Avenue,
mamma; I don't pretend that, you know."

"Where's Maxwell?" asked Hilary, still puffing from the lounge he had
sunk upon as soon as he got into the room.

"Oh, he's down town interviewing a manager about his play."

"I thought that fellow out West had his play. Or is this a new one?"

"No," said Louise, very slowly and thoughtfully, "Brice has taken back
his play from Mr. Godolphin." This was true; he _had_ taken it back in a
sense. She added, as much to herself as to her father, "But he _has_ got
a new play--that he's working at."

"I hope he hasn't been rash with Godolphin; though I always had an idea
that it would have been better for him to deal with a manager. It seems
more business-like."

"Oh, much," said Louise.

After a little while they were more at home with each other; she began
to feel herself more their child, and less Maxwell's wife; the barriers
of reluctance against him, which she always knew were up with them, fell
away from between them and herself. But her father said they had come to
get her and Maxwell to lunch with them at their hotel, and then Louise
felt herself on her husband's side of the fence again. She said no, they
must stay with her; that she was sure Brice would be back for lunch; and
she wanted to show them her house-keeping. Mrs. Hilary cast her eye
about the room at the word, as if she had seen quite enough of it
already, and this made Louise laugh again. She was no better in person
than the room was, and she felt her mother's tacit censure apply to her
slatternly dressing-gown.

"I know what you're thinking, mamma. But I got the habit of it when I
had my strained ankle."

"Oh, I'm sure it must be very comfortable," Mrs. Hilary said, of the
dressing-gown. "Is it entirely well now?" she added, of the ankle; and
she and Hilary both looked at Louise in a way that would have convinced
her that their final anxiety concerning it had brought them to New York,
if she had not guessed it already. "The doctor," and by this she meant
their old family doctor, as if he were the only one, "said you couldn't
be too careful."

"Well, I haven't been careful," said Louise, gayly; "but I'm quite well,
and you can go back at once, if that's all, mamma."

Hilary