she wished to have another. When the bitterness of his
grief had passed away, that was the hope which Lewis ventured to
express, at first in a whisper, and later with reiterated boldness.
Selma acquiesced externally, but she had her own opinions. Certain
things which were not included in "Mother Lore," had been confided by
Mrs. Margaret Rodney Earle by word of mouth in the fulness of their
mutual soul-scourings, and had remained pigeon-holed for future
reference in Selma's inner consciousness. Another baby just at this time
meant interference with everything elevating. There was time enough. In
a year or two, when she had established herself more securely in the
social sphere of Benham, she would present her husband with a second
child. It was best for them both to wait, for her success was his
success; but it would be useless to try to make that clear to him in his
present mood.

So she put away her baby things, dropping tears over the little socks
and other reminders of her sorrow, and took up her life again, keeping
her own counsel. The sympathy offered her was an interesting experience.
Mrs. Earle came to her at once, and took her to her bosom; Mrs. Taylor
sent her flowers with a kind note, which set Selma thinking whether she
ought not to buy mourning note-paper; and within a week she received a
visit of condolence from Mr. Glynn, rather a ghastly visit. Ghastly,
because Lewis sat through it all with red eyes, very much as though he
were listening to a touching exhortation in church. To be sure, he
gripped the pastor's hand like a vice, at the end, and thanked him for
coming, but his silent, afflicted presence had interfered with the free
interchange of thought which would have been possible had she been alone
with the clergyman. The subject of death, and the whole train of
reflections incident to it, were uppermost in her mind, and she would
have been glad to probe the mysteries of the subject by controversial
argument, instead of listening to hearty, sonorous platitudes. She
listened rather contemptuously, for she recognized that Mr. Glynn was
saying the stereotyped thing in the stereotyped way, without realizing
that it was nothing but sacerdotal pap, little adapted to an intelligent
soul. What was suited to Lewis was not fit for her. And yet her baby's
death had served to dissipate somewhat the immediate discontent which
she felt with her husband. His strong grief had touched her in spite of
herself, and, thoug