But Cheswardine did not like it, and did not conceal his opinion.  He argued that it would not ‘go’ with the Chippendale furniture, and Vera said that all beautiful things ‘went’ together, and Cheswardine admitted that they did, rather dryly.  You see, they took the matter seriously because the house was their hobby; they were always changing its interior, which was more than they could have done for a child, even if they had had one; and Cheswardine’s finer and soberer taste was always fighting against Vera’s predilection for the novel and the bizarre.  Apart from clothes, Vera had not much more than the taste of a mouse.

They did not quarrel in Bostock’s.  Indeed, they did not quarrel anywhere; but after Vera had suggested that he might at any rate humour her by giving her the music-stool for a Christmas present (she seemed to think this would somehow help it to ‘go’ with the Chippendale), and Cheswardine had politely but firmly declined, there had been a certain coolness and quite six tears.  Vera had caused it to be understood that even if Cheswardine was not interested in music, even if he did hate music and did call the Broadwood ebony grand ugly, that was no reason why she should be deprived of a pretty and original music-stool that would keep her music tidy and that would be hers.  As for it not going with the Chippendale, that was simply an excuse ... etc.

Hence it is not surprising that the Venetian vases of the seventeenth century left Vera cold, and that the domestic prospects for Christmas were a little cold.

However, Vera, with wifely and submissive tact made the best of things; and that evening she began to decorate the hall, dining-room, and drawing-room with holly and mistletoe.  Before the pair retired to rest, the true Christmas feeling, slightly tinged with a tender melancholy, permeated the house, and the servants were growing excited in advance.  The servants weren’t going to have a dinner-party, with crackers and port and a table-centre unmatched in the Five Towns; the servants weren’t going to invite their friends to an evening’s jollity.  The servants were merely going to work somewhat harder and have somewhat less sleep; but such is the magical effect of holly and mistletoe twined round picture-cords and hung under chandeliers that the excitement of the servants was entirely pleasurable.

And as Vera shut the bedroom door, she said, with a delightful, forgiving smile—–­

‘I saw a lovely cigar-cabinet at Bostock’s yesterday.’

‘Oh!’ said Cheswardine, touched.  He had no cigar-cabinet, and he wanted one, and Vera knew that he wanted one.

And Vera slept in the sweet consciousness of her thoughtful wifeliness.

The next morning, at breakfast, Cheswardine demanded—­

‘Getting pretty hard up, aren’t you, Maria?’

He called her Maria when he wished to be arch.

Well,’ she said, ‘as a matter of fact, I am.  What with the—­’