of her
wedding-presents, would not be to her credit. She therefore put
herself to the pace which she would naturally be expected to assume
in her position. She showed everybody who called her new possessions,
with a semblance of delight which was quite perfect. She was, in
reality, less deceptive in that respect than in others. She had a
degree of the joy of possession, or she would not have been a woman
at all, and, in fact, would not have married. She had wanted a home
and a husband; not as some women want them, for the legitimate desire
for love and protection, but because she felt a degree of
mortification on account of her single estate. She had had many
admirers, but, although no one ever knew it, not one offer of
marriage, the acceptance of which would not have been an absurdity,
before poor Harry Edgham. She was not quite contented to accept him.
She had hoped for something better; but he was good-looking, and
popular, and his social standing, in her small world, was good. He
was an electrical engineer, with an office in the city, and had a
tolerably good income, although his first wife's New England thrift
had compelled him to live parsimoniously.

Ida made up her mind from the first that thrift, after the plan of
the first woman, should not be observed in her household. Without
hinting to that effect, or without Harry's recognizing it, she so
managed that within a few weeks after her marriage he put an
insurance on his life, which would insure her comfort in case she
outlived him. He owned his house, and she had herself her little
savings, well invested. She then considered that they could live up
to Harry's income without much risk, and she proceeded to do so. It
was not long before the saturnine Hungarian, who could have provided
a regiment of her own countrymen with the coarse food of her race,
but seemed absolutely incapable of carrying out American ideas of
good cookery, was dismissed, and a good cook, at a price which at
first staggered Harry, installed in her place. Then a young girl was
found to take care of the bedrooms, and wait on table, attired in
white gowns and aprons and caps.

Ida had a reception two weeks after her return from her bridal trip,
and an elaborate menu was provided by a caterer from New York. Maria,
in a new white gown, with a white bow on her hair, sat at one end of
the dining-table, shining with cut-glass and softly lighted with
wax-candles under rose-colored shades in silve