er, that told how happy indeed
were these days for her. There was proof by word of mouth, too--long
talks with Bertram in the dancing firelight when they laid dear
plans for the future, and when she tried so hard to make her husband
understand what a good, good wife she intended to be, and how she meant
never to let anything come between them.

It was so earnest and serious a Billy by this time that Bertram would
turn startled, dismayed eyes on his young wife; whereupon, with a very
Billy-like change of mood, she would give him one of her rare caresses,
and perhaps sigh:

"Goosey--it's only because I'm so happy, happy, happy! Why, Bertram, if
it weren't for that Overflow Annex I believe I--I just couldn't live!"

It was Bertram who sighed then, and who prayed fervently in his heart
that never might he see a real shadow cloud that dear face.

Thus far, certainly, the cares of matrimony had rested anything but
heavily upon the shapely young shoulders of the new wife. Domestic
affairs at the Strata moved like a piece of well-oiled machinery.
Dong Ling, to be sure, was not there; but in his place reigned Pete's
grandniece, a fresh-faced, capable young woman who (Bertram declared)
cooked like an angel and minded her own business like a man. Pete, as
of yore, had full charge of the house; and a casual eye would see few
changes. Even the brothers themselves saw few, for that matter.

True, at the very first, Billy had donned a ruffled apron and a
bewitching dust-cap, and had traversed the house from cellar to garret
with a prettily important air of "managing things," as she suggested
changes right and left. She had summoned Pete, too, for three mornings
in succession, and with great dignity had ordered the meals for the day.
But when Bertram was discovered one evening tugging back his favorite
chair, and when William had asked if Billy were through using his
pipe-tray, the young wife had concluded to let things remain about as
they were. And when William ate no breakfast one morning, and Bertram
aggrievedly refused dessert that night at dinner, Billy--learning
through an apologetic Pete that Master William always had to have eggs
for breakfast no matter what else there was, and that Master Bertram
never ate boiled rice--gave up planning the meals. True, for three more
mornings she summoned Pete for "orders," but the orders were nothing
more nor less than a blithe "Well, Pete, what are we going to have for
dinner to-day?"