in genuine astonishment. "Why, are you not my Wee
Wifie? I think it is the best possible name I could find for you; is
it not pretty enough for your ladyship?"

"Yes, but it is so childish and will make people smile, and Aunt
Griselda would be shocked, and--" but here she broke off, flushed and
looking much distressed.

"Nay, give me all your reasons," said Hugh, kindly. "I can not know
all that is in my little wife's heart yet."

But Hugh, as he said this, sighed involuntarily, as he thought how
little he cared to trace the workings of that innocent young mind.

The gentleness of his tone gave Fay courage.

"I don't know, of course--at least I forget--but I am really sure
that--that--'The Polite Match-Maker' would not consider it right."

"What?" exclaimed Hugh, opening his eyes wide and regarding Fay with
amazement.

"'The Polite Match-Maker,' dear," faltered Fay, "the book that Aunt
Griselda gave me to study when I was engaged, because she said that it
contained all the necessary and fundamental rules for well-bred young
couples. To be sure she smiled, and said it was a little
old-fashioned; but I was so anxious to learn the rules perfectly that
I read it over three or four times."

"And 'The Polite Match-Maker' would not approve of Wee Wifie, you
think?" and Sir Hugh tried to repress a smile.

"Oh, I am sure of it," she returned, seriously; "the forms of address
were so different."

"Give me an example, then, or I can hardly profit by the rule."

Fay had no need to consider, but she hesitated for all that. She was
never sure how Hugh would take things when he had that look on his
face. She did not want him to laugh at her.

"Of course it is old-fashioned, as Aunt Griselda says; but I know the
'Match-Maker' considered 'Honored Wife,' or 'Dearest Madame,' the
correct form of address." And as Hugh burst out laughing, she
continued, in a slightly injured tone--"Of course I know that people
do not use those terms now, but all the same, I am sure Aunt Griselda
would not think Wee Wifie sufficiently respectful,"--and here Fay
looked ready to cry--"and though the book is old-fashioned she said
many of the rules were excellent."

"But, Fay," remonstrated her husband, "does it not strike you that the
rules must be obsolete, savoring of the days of Sir Charles Grandison
and Clarissa Harlowe? Pshaw!" with a frown, "I forgot I was gauging a
child's intellect. Well," turning to her, "what is your busy little
min