n I came home. "You look
like a ghost."

"Not at all," I replied. "I've been getting a job."

"Tell me about it."

I told her part. She went and got her sewing, and settled herself
comfortably for a quiet evening's work. Eleanore loved baby clothes.

"Now begin again and tell me all," she ordered. And she persisted until
I did.

"It won't do," she said, when I had finished.

"It will do," I replied decidedly. "It's the best thing in sight. It
will see us through till the baby is born. After all, it's only for a
year."

"It's a mighty important year for you, my love," said Eleanore. She
thoughtfully held up and surveyed a tiny infant's nightgown. "If you do
this you'll be giving up. It's not writing your best. It's giving up
what you think is the truth. And that's a bad habit to get into."

"It's settled now. Please leave it alone."

"Oh very well," she said placidly. "Let's talk of what I've been doing."

"What _you've_ been doing?"

"Precisely. I've taken a little apartment downtown, over by the river.
The rent is twenty-eight dollars a month. It's on the top floor and has
plenty of air, and there's a nice roof for hot summer evenings. You're
to carry two wicker chairs up there each night after supper."

"I'll do nothing of the kind," I rejoined indignantly. "You're going to
pack up at once and go to the mountains! And when you come back you're
coming right here!"

"Oh no I'm not," she answered.

"Don't be an idiot, Eleanore! Think of moving out of here now! In your
condition!"

"It's better than moving out of your work. Dad has kept right on with
his, even when they stopped his pay. Well, now they've stopped your pay,
that's all, and we've got to do the best we can. We've simply got to
live for a while on modest honorariums. Now don't talk, wait till I get
through. You've got to work harder than ever before but for much less
money. But with less money than before we're going to be happier than
we've ever been in all our lives. And you can't do a thing to stop it.
If you do take that office work and bring a lot of money home, do you
know what I'll do? I'll move to that little flat just the same, and all
the extra money you bring will go to Mrs. Bealey."

"Who in God's name is Mrs. Bealey?"

"One of my oldest charity cases. She was here this afternoon. The
trouble with you is, my dear," my wife continued smoothly, "that you've
been so wrapped up in your own little changes you haven't given a
thoug