r dinner in
the absence of his wife from the city, had left after an evening of
banter and chit-chat.... At Milly's despairing exclamation, Ernestine
squatted down on a footstool at her feet and looked up at her mate with
the pained expression of a faithful dog, who wants to understand his
Idol's desires, but can't.

"What's the matter with _this_, dearie?" she grumbled, taking one of
Milly's hands in her powerful grip. "Can't you be satisfied just as it
is? Seems to me--" and she broke off to look around the cheerful room
with a glance of appreciation--"seems to me we're pretty comfortable, we
three, just as we are, without worrying 'bout making a lot more money
and trying things that would be a bother and might turn out badly in the
end."

As Milly's face still gloomed, unresponsive, she added contritely,--

"I know it's small. It ain't what you--"

"Oh, it isn't that!" Milly interrupted hastily. "You don't understand,
Ernestine; I want to do something for myself just to show I can. I'm so
useless--always have been, I suppose.... Well." She rose from her chair,
disengaging herself from the Laundryman's embrace, and stood musingly
with one foot on the fender, the firelight playing softly over the silk
of her gown. (The favorite attitude, by the way, of the heroine in
Jack's illustrations of Clive Reinhard's stories.)

"You ain't one mite useless to _me_!" Ernestine protested. (In her
emotional moments she lapsed into her native idiom in spite of herself.)

"You're kind, Ernestine," Milly replied almost coldly. "But I really
_am_ nearly useless. Can't you see why I want to do something for myself
and my child, as you have done for yourself? And not be always a
dependent!"

Ernestine threw herself on the lounge, looking quite miserable. The worm
in her swelling bud of happiness had already appeared.

"I'm content," she sighed, "just as it is."

"I'm not!" Milly retorted, rather unfeelingly.

"It suits me to a T, if it could only last."

For a time neither added anything to the subject. Milly, who was never
hard for more than a few moments, went over to the lounge and caressed
the Laundryman's face.

"That was horrid of me," she said. "It's going to last--forever, I
guess."

But in spite of herself she could not keep the droop from her voice at
this statement of the irrevocable, and Ernestine shook her head sadly.

"No, it ain't. You'll marry again sometime."

"I'll never do that!" Milly exclaimed impat