e still
refused to have him dismissed.

"Why, Bertram, I wouldn't do it," she declared hotly; "and you wouldn't,
either. He's been here more than fifty years. It would break his heart.
He's really too ill to work, and I wish he would go of his own accord,
of course; but I sha'n't ever tell him to go--not if he spills soup on
every dress I've got. I'll buy more--and more, if it's necessary. Bless
his dear old heart! He thinks he's really serving us--and he is, too."

"Oh, yes, you're right, he _is!_" sighed Bertram, with meaning emphasis,
as he abandoned the argument.

In addition to her "Talk to Young Wives," Billy found herself
encountering advice and comment on the marriage question from still
other quarters--from her acquaintances (mostly the feminine ones) right
and left. Continually she was hearing such words as these:

"Oh, well, what can you expect, Billy? You're an old married woman,
now."

"Never mind, you'll find he's like all the rest of the husbands. You
just wait and see!"

"Better begin with a high hand, Billy. Don't let him fool you!"

"Mercy! If I had a husband whose business it was to look at women's
beautiful eyes, peachy cheeks, and luxurious tresses, I should go
crazy! It's hard enough to keep a man's eyes on yourself when his daily
interests are supposed to be just lumps of coal and chunks of ice,
without flinging him into the very jaws of temptation like asking him to
paint a pretty girl's picture!"

In response to all this, of course, Billy could but laugh, and blush,
and toss back some gay reply, with a careless unconcern. But in her
heart she did not like it. Sometimes she told herself that if there were
not any advice or comment from anybody--either book or woman--if there
were not anybody but just Bertram and herself, life would be just one
long honeymoon forever and forever.

Once or twice Billy was tempted to go to Marie with this honeymoon
question; but Marie was very busy these days, and very preoccupied. The
new house that Cyril was building on Corey Hill, not far from the
Annex, was almost finished, and Marie was immersed in the subject of
house-furnishings and interior decoration. She was, too, still more
deeply engrossed in the fashioning of tiny garments of the softest
linen, lace, and woolen; and there was on her face such a look of
beatific wonder and joy that Billy did not like to so much as hint that
there was in the world such a book as "When the Honeymoon Wanes: A Tal