leeve was a tiny
hole. The housewifely spirit was filled with dread. There were
actually _moths_ in that closet! She must attend to it immediately.
The woolens ought to be put up if moths had already appeared. John's
clothes and the boys' winter coats were in great danger of being
ruined. By lunch time the necessary brushing and doing up were ended.
But in stowing away the winter garments in the attic, our heroine was
appalled at the confusion among the trunks. The garret needed
attention, and received it as soon as the noonday meal was dispatched.
At four o'clock, with the waitress' assistance, the task was
completed. About the same time a note arrived from John saying he
would be obliged to bring two of his old friends--"swell
bachelors"--who were spending the day in town, to dine with him that
night. She "must not put herself to any trouble about dinner, and he
would take them to the theatre in the evening." To the dinner already
ordered were added oyster-pates, salad, with mayonnaise dressing,
salted almonds, and, instead of the plain pudding that John liked, was
a pie of which he was still more fond, capped by black coffee, all of
which articles, except the last-named, were prepared by the hostess,
who, in faultless toilette, with remarkably brilliant color, smilingly
welcomed her husband and his guests to the half-past six dinner. When
they had gone to the theatre, and the mother had talked to her two
sons of the day's school experiences, before they settled down to
their evening of study, she returned to the dining-room, and, as Mary
had a headache and had had a busy day, she assisted in washing and
wiping the unusual number of soiled dishes, and in setting the
breakfast table. At nine o'clock she dragged her weary self upstairs.
As she passed the door of her sanctum on the way to her bed-chamber,
she paused, then entered, and lighted the gas-jet over her desk. On it
lay the page of foolscap, blank but for the words:

"He was--"

The day had gone and the plot with it.

With a half-sob she sat down and wrote with tired and trembling
fingers:

_"He was--this morning. He isn't now!"_

But will not my readers agree with me that she was a genuine wife,
mother, housekeeper,--in short, a "chink-filler?"

CHAPTER VII.

MUST-HAVES AND MAY-BES.

"A Summer in Leslie Goldthwaite's Life," one of the most charming, as
well as one of the most helpful of Adeline D.T. Whitney's books, was
sent into the world o