“Ah,” he said, bending down to kiss the ruby lips.  “I thought you were to be my pupil.”

“Oh, so I am! except in purely feminine accomplishments.  See!” holding up her work.  “I’ve been busy with this.  It was the sewing hour, and sister Elsie read aloud to us while we worked.”

“Ah, yes!  I have been reader many a time while mamma and sisters plied the needle.”

“How nice! you are such a beautiful reader!  But she is almost as good.”

“Not only almost, but altogether,” he returned gayly as he held open the door of her boudoir for her to enter, then followed her in.  “I’ve come now to hear your recitations.  I suppose you are quite prepared,” he added, drawing up a chair for her, and glancing at a pile of books lying on the table.

“No,” she said, coloring and dropping her eyes with a slightly mortified air.  “I meant to be, but so many things happened to interfere.  I had a letter to write, then some ladies called, and then——­”

“Well?” he said interrogatively, as she paused, coloring still more deeply.

“I wanted to finish the book I was reading last night.  I really couldn’t fix my thoughts on stupid lessons until I knew what became of the heroine.”

Edward, standing by her side and looking down at her, shook his head gravely.  “Duties should be attended to first, Zoe, pleasures indulged in afterward.”

“You are talking to me as if I were nothing but a child!” she cried indignantly, her cheeks growing hot.

“The dearest, most lovable child in the world,” he said, bending down to stroke her hair and look into her face with laughing eyes.

“No, sir, I’m your wife.  What did you marry me for if you considered me such a child?” she cried with a half pout on her lip, but love-light in the eyes lifted to his.

“Because I loved you and wanted the right to take care of you, my bonny belle,” he said, repeating his caress.

“And you do, the best care in the world, you dear boy!” she exclaimed impulsively, throwing her arms about his neck.  “And if it will please you, I’ll set to work at the lessons now.”

“Then do, love; I have letters to write, and we will sit here and work side by side.”

Both worked diligently for an hour or more; they had a merry time over the recitations, then drove together to the nearest village to post Edward’s letters and get the afternoon mail for Ion.

Violet was made happy by a long letter from her husband.

She had barely time to glance over it, learning when and where it was written, and that he was well at the time of writing, when the tea-bell rang.

She slipped the precious missive into her pocket with a little sigh of satisfaction, and joined the others at the table with a very bright and happy face.

She had not been the only fortunate one; her mother had cheering news from Herbert and Harold, Mrs. Dinsmore some sprightly, gossipy letters from her sisters Adelaide and May, whose contents furnished topics of lively discourse, in which Violet took part.