's tender care and Katie's assiduous attentions. The
studio party, of which I was sure Grace Draper was a member, rankled
as did anything connected with this student model of Dicky's. The
memory of the village gossip concerning her friendship for my husband
which I had heard in Marvin troubled me, while even Dicky's solicitude
for my illness seemed to my overwrought imagination to be forced,
artificial.

His exclamation, "My poor little sweetheart!" did not ring true to
me. I felt bitterly that there was more sincerity in Dr. Pettit's low
words of the day before: "Poor little girl, I wish I could bear this
pain for you!" than in Dicky's protestations.

How genuinely troubled the tall young physician had been! How
resentful of Dicky's absence from my bedside! How tender and strong
in my paroxysms of choking! I felt a sudden added bitterness toward my
husband that the memory of my suffering should have blended with it no
recollection of his care, only the tender sympathy of a stranger.

But in two days I was my usual self again, ready for the arduous tasks
of moving and settling.

Mother Graham and I spent a hectic day in the furniture and drapery
shops, buying things to supplement her furniture and mine, which we
had arranged to have sent to the Brennan house in Marvin. I found that
her judgment as to values and fabrics was unerring. But her taste as
to colors and designs frequently clashed with mine. Save for the fact
that she became fatigued before we had finished our shopping, there
would have been no individual touch of mine in our home. As it was, I
was not sorry that she found herself too indisposed to go with me
the second day, so that I had a chance to put something of my own
individuality into the new furnishings.

Another two days in Marvin with the aid of a workman unpacking and
arranging the crated furniture and our purchases, and the new home was
ready to step into.

We were a gay little party as we went together through the house
inspecting all the rooms. When we came to Dicky's, he barred us out.

"Now, remember, no stealing of keys and peering into Bluebeard's
closet," said Dicky gayly, as he closed and locked the door of his
room.

"You flatter yourself, sir." I swept him a low bow. "I really haven't
the slightest curiosity about your old room."

"Sour grapes," he mocked, and then impressively, "And no matter what
packages or furniture come here for me they are not to be unwrapped.
Just leave