rstand. He never did. In all the years together, which
he made so rich and happy, Tom never understood how hard and bitter a
school was that first year of my married life. But Tom did try to give
me a good time in London. He took me to interesting places and we were
entertained by a number of people, mostly ponderous and stupid. Tom did
not suggest that we entertain in our turn. I think he felt I was not
ready for it, although even in after years, when we talked frankly about
many things, he would never admit this.

I shall never forget my first week-end party in England. I was not
well, and Tom, manlike, felt sure the change, a trip down to Essex and
new people, would do me good. The thought of the country and a visit
with some good simple country folk appealed to me too, so I packed the
bags and met Tom at Victoria Station at eleven o'clock. Alas! It is a
far cry from a Montana ranch to a gentleman's estate in England! My
vision of a quiet visit "down on a farm" vanished the minute we stepped
off the train. Liveried coachmen collected our baggage. They seemed to
be discussing something; then I heard Tom say: "I guess that 's all.
I 'll wire back for the rest of it."

We were led to a handsome cart drawn by a fine tandem team, and Tom and
I were alone for a minute.

"My God, Mary!" he burst out, "didn't you bring any clothes for us?"

"I certainly have," I retorted, sure I was in the right this time.
"Your nightshirt and my nightgown; your toilet articles and mine; a
change of underclothes; a clean shirt and two collars for you, and my
new striped silk waist."

I shall never forget Tom's expression.

"Do you know where we are going?" he groaned. "To one of the grandest
houses in England! Oh, Lord! I ought to have told you. You 'll need
all the clothes you have down here. And--and a valet and maid will
unpack the bags--oh, hell!" After more of the same kind of talk, he
began to cook up some yarn to tell the valet.

Suddenly all that is free-born in me rose to the surface. "Is it the
thing for gentlemen to be afraid of the valet?" I asked my husband.
"Does a servant regulate your life and set your standards?"

Tom was quiet for several moments; then he took my hand and said very
earnestly: "Mary, don't you ever lose your respect for the real things.
It will save both of us." After a while he added: "Just the same, I 'll
have to lie out of this baggage hole."

He did, in a very casual, laugh