es
as she replied:

"I don't know--I am afraid. Why, since the tobacco trust bought out that
Carrington box factory five months ago, and began fighting Charles, he
talks tobacco boxes in his sleep."

"Don't take it so seriously," the aunt argued. "All men are that way. My
dear, your Uncle Jim mumbles woolens--even during Dog Days. No, you
mustn't take things so seriously, Cicily. You are not the only wife who
has to suffer in this way. You are not the only one who was ever
lonesome. Your case isn't unusual--more pity! It's the case of almost
every wife whose husband wins in this frightful battle with business.
Years ago, dear, I suffered as you are suffering. Your uncle never told
me anything. I've never known anything at all about more than half of
his life. He rebuffed me the few times at first, when I tried to share
those things with him. He said that a woman had no place in a man's
business affairs. So, after a little, I stopped trying. For a time, I
was lonesome--very lonesome--oh, so lonesome!... And, then, I began to
make a life for myself outside the home--as he had already by his
business. I tried in my humble way to do something for others. That's
the best way to down a heartache, my dear--try making someone else
happy."

The words arrested Cicily's heed. As their meaning seeped into her
consciousness, the expression of her face changed little by little.
"Making people happy!" She repeated the phrase as she had formulated the
idea again, very softly, with a persistence that would have surprised
Mrs. Delancy, could she have caught the inaudible murmur. Presently, the
faint rose in the pallor of her cheeks blossomed to a deeper red, and
the amber eyes grew radiant, as she lifted the long, curving lashes, and
fixed her gaze on her aunt. There was a new animation in her voice as
she spoke; there was a new determination in the resolute set of the
scarlet lips.

"Why, that's something to do!" she exclaimed, joyously. "It's something
to do, really, after all--isn't it?"

"Yes," her aunt agreed, sedately; "something big to do. For my part, I
joined church circles, and worked first for the heathen."

"Oh, bother the heathen!" Cicily ejaculated, rudely. "Charles is heathen
enough for me!" With her characteristic impulsiveness, she sprang to her
feet, as Mrs. Delancy quietly rose to go, ran to her aunt, and embraced
that astonished woman with great fervor.

"I honestly believe that you've given me the idea I was