t. Now I ask you frankly,
don't you think so yourself?"

For George the situation was far from a happy one. To be the confidant
of Mrs. O'Brien in this particular disappointment was embarrassing, to
say the least. Moreover, certain of Mrs. O'Brien's objections were
somewhat difficult to meet and yet they had to be met and met often, for
Mrs. O'Brien harped on them constantly.

"And, Jarge dear, if you do go marry her and carry her off to the
country, what will you do with her out there? Tell me that, now! For
meself I can't see Ellen milkin' a cow."

[Illustration: To be the confidant of Mrs. O'Brien in this particular
disappointment was embarrassing, to say the least.]

George tried hard to explain that milking cows was not the only activity
open to a farmer's wife; that, in all probability, Ellen would never be
called on to milk a cow. His protests were vain, for, to Mrs. O'Brien,
milking a cow stood not so much for a definite occupation as for a
general symbol of country life. George might talk an hour and very often
did and, at the end of that time, Mrs. O'Brien would sigh mournfully and
remark: "Say what you will, Jarge, I tell you one thing: I can't see
Ellen milkin' a cow."

Moreover, life with Ellen was not at once the long sweet song that
George had expected. Not that she was the old imperious Ellen of biting
speech and quick temper. She was not. All that was passed. She was quiet
now, and docile, anxious to please and always ready for anything he
might suggest. Would she like a street-car ride tonight? Yes, a
street-car ride would be very nice. Or the movies or a walk? She would
like whatever he wanted. Her gentleness touched him but caused him
disquiet, too, because he could not help realizing that a great part of
it was apathy. One thing pleased her as much as another, which is pretty
nearly the same as saying one thing bored her as much as another.

"But, Ellen," he protested more than once, "you don't have to go if you
don't want to!"

"Oh, I want to," she would insist in tones that were far from
convincing.

George could not help recalling the eager joy with which Rosie used to
greet each new expedition. Why wasn't Ellen the same, he wondered in
helpless perplexity. He went through all the little attentions which
Rosie had taught him and a thousand more, and Ellen received them with a
quiet, "Thanks," or a half-hearted, "You're awful kind, George."

"Kind nuthin'!" he shouted once. "I don't bel