ve yielded to his wishes. But on my part I have
stipulated that I must be permitted to do the housework of our nest,
with the occasional help of a laundress. I will be no parasite wife
who neither helps her husband in or out of the home. But the little
devils must be busy laughing just now. I, who have hardly hung up
my own nightgown for years, and whose knowledge of housekeeping is
mightily near zero, am to try to make home happy and comfortable for
an artist! Poor Dicky!

I don't know what has come to me. I worship Dicky. He sweeps me off
my feet with his love, his vivid personality overpowers my more
commonplace self, but through all the bewildering intoxication of
my engagement and marriage a little mocking devil, a cool, cynical,
little devil, is constantly whispering in my ear: "You fool, you fool,
to imagine you can escape unhappiness! There is no such thing as a
happy marriage!"

Dicky has just 'phoned up from the smoking room to ask me if my hour
isn't up. How his voice clears away all the miasma of my miserable
thoughts! Please God, Dicky, I am going to lock up all my old ideas in
the most unused closet of my brain, and try my best to be a good wife
to you! I will be happy! I will! I WILL!

II

THE FIRST QUARREL

"I'll give you three guesses, Madge." Dicky stood just inside the door
of the living room, holding an immense parcel carefully wrapped. His
hat was on the back of his head, his eyes shining, his whole face
aglow with boyish mischief.

"It's for you, my first housekeeping present, that is needed in every
well regulated family," he burlesqued boastfully, "but you are not to
see it until we have something to eat, and you have guessed what it
is."

"I know it is something lovely, dear," I replied sedately, "but come
to your dinner. It is getting cold."

Dicky looked a trifle hurt as he followed me to the dining room. I
knew what he expected--enthusiastic curiosity and a demand for the
immediate opening of the parcel, I can imagine the pretty enthusiasm,
the caresses with which almost any other woman would have greeted a
bridegroom of two weeks with his first present.

But it's simply impossible for me to gush. I cannot express emotion of
any kind with the facility of most women. I worshipped my mother, but
I rarely kissed her or expressed my love for her in words. My love for
Dicky terrifies me sometimes, it is so strong, but I cannot go up
to him and offer him an unsolicited kiss or