His exclamation, “My poor little sweetheart!” did not ring true to me.  I felt bitterly that there was more sincerity in Dr. Pettit’s low words of the day before:  “Poor little girl, I wish I could bear this pain for you!” than in Dicky’s protestations.

How genuinely troubled the tall young physician had been!  How resentful of Dicky’s absence from my bedside!  How tender and strong in my paroxysms of choking!  I felt a sudden added bitterness toward my husband that the memory of my suffering should have blended with it no recollection of his care, only the tender sympathy of a stranger.

But in two days I was my usual self again, ready for the arduous tasks of moving and settling.

Mother Graham and I spent a hectic day in the furniture and drapery shops, buying things to supplement her furniture and mine, which we had arranged to have sent to the Brennan house in Marvin.  I found that her judgment as to values and fabrics was unerring.  But her taste as to colors and designs frequently clashed with mine.  Save for the fact that she became fatigued before we had finished our shopping, there would have been no individual touch of mine in our home.  As it was, I was not sorry that she found herself too indisposed to go with me the second day, so that I had a chance to put something of my own individuality into the new furnishings.

Another two days in Marvin with the aid of a workman unpacking and arranging the crated furniture and our purchases, and the new home was ready to step into.

We were a gay little party as we went together through the house inspecting all the rooms.  When we came to Dicky’s, he barred us out.

“Now, remember, no stealing of keys and peering into Bluebeard’s closet,” said Dicky gayly, as he closed and locked the door of his room.

“You flatter yourself, sir.”  I swept him a low bow.  “I really haven’t the slightest curiosity about your old room.”

“Sour grapes,” he mocked, and then impressively, “And no matter what packages or furniture come here for me they are not to be unwrapped.  Just leave them on the porch, or in the library until I come home.”

“I wouldn’t touch one of them with a pair of tongs,” I assured him.

“See that you don’t,” he returned, hanging the key up, and hastily kissing me.  “Now I’ve got to run for it.”

He hurried down the stairs and out of the front door.  I stood looking after him with a smile of tender amusement.

The day after Dicky’s purchases arrived he rose early.

“No studio for me today,” he announced.  “Can you get hold of that man who helped you clean up here?  I want an able-bodied man for several hours today.”

“I think so,” I returned quietly, and going to the telephone, soon returned with the assurance that William-of-the-wide-grin would shortly be at the house.

“That’s fine,” commented Dicky.  “And now I want you and mother to get out of the way after breakfast.  Go for a walk or a drive or anything go you are not around.  I want to surprise you this afternoon.  I’ll bet that room will make your eyes stick out when you see it.”