“Not quite—­always.”

He looked at her.  “Would you like to come?” he asked, bluntly.

“What about you?”

“I would rather you answered first.”

“I decline to answer first.  The offer is made to you, not me.  You are the head of the house, the breadwinner.  It is for you to decide.”

“I can’t decide without reference to you.”

“You needn’t.  When you tell me what you want I will tell you what I want.”

He was silent for a little.  Then suddenly he got to his feet, walked up and down the room a few times, and came back to stand before her.

“My little wife,” he said, “if I thought you would be happier—­”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.  If you wanted very much to come it would influence me, of course.  But doubting that—­”

“Why do you doubt it?  Shouldn’t I be lacking in ambition if I failed to take advantage of such a chance?  It is a chance, Ellen,—­the chance of a lifetime.  Jack means precisely what he says, and he could give me such a backing as would insure me a tremendous start.”

“Just the same, Red, you don’t want to come!”

“No, I don’t,” he owned, bluntly.  “But why don’t I?  Is something wrong with me?”

“Not at all.  You have made a large place for yourself at home; you do all any man could do anywhere.  And you are happy there.  You wouldn’t be happy here, because you would have to alter your simple way of living.  And if you were not happy, neither should I be.  Why should we change conditions in which we are both entirely content, and in which you are accomplishing just as much benefit to humanity as you could anywhere?”

“Ah, but that’s the question.  Couldn’t I accomplish more here?”

“Is human life more valuable here than there?”

“Not a whit.”

“Could you save more of it?”

“I doubt it.”

“We should have to leave Sunny Farm.”  She looked up at him with a smile.

“We should.”  He shook his head.  “You would be sorry to do that?”

“So sorry that I can’t possibly think of it.  Dear,—­make your decision!”

“I will.  We will stay where we are.”

He gathered her close and kissed her tenderly.

“A place for everything, and everything in its place,” he quoted once more.  “The place for Jack and Charlotte is here—­unquestionably.  The place for Ellen and Red is there.  I believe it.  Jack’s offer didn’t shake my belief for a minute, as far as I am concerned.  It did put into my mind the question whether I ought not to make the change for your sake.”

“I don’t believe,” she said slowly, “that a man is often called upon to leave the place where he can be most useful, on account of his wife’s tastes or preferences—­providing nothing more serious is involved.  And, when her tastes and preferences are on his side of the question, there can be no doubt at all.  You may be at rest, Red, for I’m sure I’m happiest to live your life with you, just as it is best for you to live it.  And I love my country surgeon so well I don’t want him made over into anything else.  I can’t believe he’d be so satisfactory in any other shape!”