Flying about the room, then making him seat himself in the cozy chair which was placed for him at the table—­“the side that’s next the fire,” she said—­rattling gayly on of all her day’s employment, she caught the look upon his face and came to his side.  “What were you thinking of, Ross?” she asked, anxiously.

“What a little tornado you were, for the first thing, and how I liked seeing you busy among our household gods; also and moreover, that you had not given me a chance to say a word; and worst of all, that you had never given me my kiss of welcome, my rightful perquisite.”  Instantly she held up her face.  “Ah, pet, you are always submissive; but never aggressive:  still, this is sweet.  And I was wondering what had become of the weeping willow I left.”

“Wasn’t I a silly goose, Ross?” she said, a little breathlessly.

“Well, no, dear:  you were very nervous and worn-out.”

“I hate nervous, fidgety women so:  they’re detestable with their whims.”

“I did not find you so, but I’m glad you’re over it, all the same.”

“And so am I. You could not make me cry like that again, Ross, if you were to pinch me.”

“But I did not make you cry.”

“Yes you did, though.  In truth, I was unstrung, and you were so kind and unlike what any one had ever been to me before, so different from what I had expected when we were married “—­and her lips quivered—­“that it touched me to the quick.”

“Why, darling, did you think I was going to be a brute to you?”

“I thought you would be nothing to me, one way or the other—­simply forget me, and be utterly indifferent so long as I kept your clothes made and mended, and did not bother you about my wants or tastes or opinions.”

A flush came over his face at the truth of her words.  It would have been just so had he found her what he expected her to be; but he said, “I don’t think any one could treat you like that, little girl.”  Then, while they ate their dinner, he told her of his day’s doings and of his determination for the future:  “I have a good opening—­no man better.  I mean to attend to my practice hereafter, make a name and fortune for my sweetheart, and in a few years we’ll go to Europe and see the sights.  Ah, Percy, such a vista, such a new life, such a bright future, as I see opening before me!  But, first of all, I am going shopping with you, young lady, to-morrow.  I have ordered a carriage at eleven, and we’ll buy all those pretty fixings you women doat on.  Do you know, little bride, I think all my vanity is going to take the form of having you more prettily dressed than your cousins, mine ancient flames when I was a bad boy?”

“Oh, Ross,” with a little laugh, “you can’t do it:  you can’t make a rival specimen out of your bad bargain.  Nothing will make me a beauty.”