after all her misgiving about him,
Rose seemed rather relieved than otherwise, as if he were glad to have
her off his hands.

"Well," said March, "with these troublesome affairs settled, I don't see
what there is to keep us in Europe any longer, unless it's the consensus
of opinion in Tom, Bella, and Fulkerson, that we ought to stay the
winter."

"Stay the winter!" Mrs. March rose from her pillow, and clutched the
home letters to her from the abeyance in which they had fallen on the
coverlet while she was dealing with the others. "What do you mean?"

"It seems to have been prompted by a hint you let drop, which Tom has
passed to Bella and Fulkerson."

"Oh, but that was before we left Carlsbad!" she protested, while she
devoured the letters with her eyes, and continued to denounce the
absurdity of the writers. Her son and daughter both urged that now their
father and mother were over there, they had better stay as long as they
enjoyed it, and that they certainly ought not to come home without going
to Italy, where they had first met, and revisiting the places which
they had seen together when they were young engaged people: without that
their silver wedding journey would not be complete. Her son said that
everything was going well with 'Every Other Week', and both himself and
Mr. Fulkerson thought his father ought to spend the winter in Italy, and
get a thorough rest. "Make a job of it, March," Fulkerson wrote, "and
have a Sabbatical year while you're at it. You may not get another."

"Well, I can tell them," said Mrs. March indignantly, "we shall not do
anything of the kind."

"Then you didn't mean it?"

"Mean it!" She stopped herself with a look at her husband, and asked
gently, "Do you want to stay?"

"Well, I don't know," he answered vaguely. The fact was, he was sick of
travel and of leisure; he was longing to be at home and at work again.
But if there was to be any self-sacrifice which could be had, as it
were, at a bargain; which could be fairly divided between them, and
leave him the self and her the sacrifice, he was too experienced a
husband not to see the advantage of it, or to refuse the merit. "I
thought you wished to stay."

"Yes," she sighed, "I did. It has been very, very pleasant, and, if
anything, I have over-enjoyed myself. We have gone romping through it
like two young people, haven't we?"

"You have," he assented. "I have always felt the weight of my years in
getting the baggage registe