“Does it satisfy you, my little wife?” he asked, in tones that spoke intense enjoyment of her pleasure.

“Fully, in every way; but especially as an evidence of my husband’s love,” she answered, suffering him to throw an arm about her and fold her to his heart.

There had been words of welcome and a recognition of the younger lady as now mistress of the mansion, trembling on the mother’s tongue, but she now stole quietly away and left them to each other.

In half an hour the two rejoined their guests, “somewhat improved in appearance,” as Mr. Travilla laughingly said he hoped they would be found.

“You are indeed,” said Aunt Wealthy, “a lily or a rose couldn’t look lovelier than Elsie does in that pure white, and with the beautiful flowers in her hair.  I like her habit of wearing natural flowers in her hair.”

“And I,” said her husband, “they seem to me to have been made for her adornment.”

“And your money-hoon’s over, Elsie; how odd it seems to think you’ve been so long married.  And did you get through the money-hoon without a quarrel?  But of course you did.”

Elsie, who had for a moment looked slightly puzzled by the new word, now answered with a smile of comprehension, “Oh, yes, auntie; surely we should be a sad couple if even the honeymoon were disturbed by a disagreement.  But Edward and I never mean to quarrel.”

Mr. Dinsmore turned in his chair, and gave his daughter a glance of mingled surprise and disapprobation.

“There, papa, I knew you would think me disrespectful,” she exclaimed with a deep blush; “but he insisted, indeed ordered me, and you know I have promised to obey.”

“It is quite true,” assented Mr. Travilla, coloring in his turn; “but I told her it was the only order I ever meant to give her.”

“Better not make rash promises,” said Mr. Dinsmore, laughing; “these wives are sometimes inclined to take advantage of them.”

“Treason! treason!” cried Rose, lifting her hands; “to think you’d say that before me!

    “’Husband, husband, cease your strife
        No longer idly rove, sir;
      Tho’ I am your wedded wife,
        Yet I am not your slave, sir.’”

There was a general laugh, in the midst of which the tea-bell rang.

“Come,” said the elder Mrs. Travilla good-humoredly, “don’t be setting a bad example to my children, Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, but let us all adjourn amicably to the tea-room, and try the beneficial effect of meat and drink upon our tempers.”

“That’s a very severe reproof, coming from so mild a person as yourself, Mrs. Travilla,” said Rose.  “My dear, give your arm to Aunt Wealthy, or our hostess.  The ladies being so largely in the majority, the younger ones should be left to take care of themselves; of course excepting our bride.  Miss King, will you take my arm?”

“Sit here, my daughter,” said Mrs. Travilla, indicating the seat before the tea-urn.