"Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee
And for thy maintenance; commits his body
To painful labor, both by sea and land;
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold
While thou liest warm at home secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks and true obedience,--
Too little payment for so great a debt."

"You see, Arthur, I have my Shakespeare at my tongue's end."

Mrs. Baumhagen suddenly broke up the coffee party. She seemed heated,
for she was fanning herself with her handkerchief.

"Gertrude, you must show us the house," she exclaimed. "Come, Jenny, we
will leave the gentlemen to their cigars."

"Gladly, mamma," said the young girl, easily.

She led her mother and sister through the kitchen and cellar, through
the chambers, and through the whole house. In the dining-room a pretty
young woman in a spotless white apron was engaged in clearing off the
table. Gertrude gave her some orders in a low tone as she passed.

"That is Johanna, whose husband was killed," said Jenny.

"Yes," replied her sister, "I have engaged her as housekeeper. She is
very capable, and I like to have a familiar face about me."

"With the child?" asked the mother, scornfully.

"Of course," replied the young wife. "She lives in the other wing. It
is a pleasure to see how the little fellow improves in the country
air."

"Who lives in this wing?" inquired Jenny.

"Aunt Rosa."

"Good gracious! A sort of mother-in-law?" cried her sister in
consternation.

Gertrude shook her head. "No, she is quite inoffensive, she belongs to
the inventory--so to speak. But I would like Frank to have his mother
here, the old lady is so alone and she is not very well."

Jenny laughed aloud, but Mrs. Baumhagen rustled so angrily into the
next room that all the ribbons on her rather youthful toilette
fluttered and waved in the air.

"Gertrude!" cried Jenny, "you will not be so senseless!"

The young wife made no reply. She opened a wardrobe door in the
corridor and said,

"This is the linen, Jenny; we need so much in the country. That is the
chest for the finest linen and for the china, and this is my room. This
way, mamma."

"It might have been a little less simple," remarked her mother, who had
recovered herself, though the flush of excitement still rested on her
full cheeks.

"I did not wish to be so very unlike Frank, who kep