e prefers to discuss ice-boxes," said Jimmie, politely,
"by all means, let us bring the conversation down to her level. It
will not be the first time I have had to do it."

"I don't care!" I said, stoutly. "It was far more interesting than
seeing the prince. This, you must remember, was our _first_ ice-box.
The other one was built into the apartment, and we didn't own it."

"I do wish Bee could hear you!" jeered Jimmie. "Gee, but you will be a
trial to Bee."

"I always have been," I said. "She got mad at me just before I was
married about a thing as foolish as anything _I_ ever heard of. I had
calls to pay, and I asked Bee to go with me. She said she'd go if I'd
get a carriage, so I said I would, and told her to order it. But it
seems that all the good ones were engaged for a funeral, and they sent
us a one-horse brougham with the driver not in livery. We didn't
notice it until we opened the front door. Then Bee sailed in. 'Why
are you not in livery?' she demanded. 'I shall certainly report you to
Mr. Overman. He ought to be ashamed to send out a driver without a
livery!' 'If you please, ma'am,' said the man, 'I'm Mr. Overman, and
rather than disappoint you ladies, as all my men are out, I thought I'd
drive you myself.' Well, that was too much for even Bee. So she
thanked him, and in we got. The first house we went to was that of a
haughty society dame of whose opinion Bee stood much in awe.
Personally, I thought her an illiterate old bore. She was newly rich,
and laid great emphasis upon such things as maids' caps, while tucking
her own napkin under her chin at dinner. She followed us to the door
in an excess of cordiality which amused me, considering everything, and
there, to our horror, we saw poor old Overman half-way under the horse,
examining one of its hoofs! Poor Bee! I gave one look at her face and
giggled. That was enough. She was so enraged that she wouldn't pay
another call. She took me straight home as if I were a bad child, and
the next day I paid my calls alone."

"And yet," said Jimmie, musingly, "can you or any of us ever forget the
night that Bee did the skirt dance in Tyrol?"

"Dear Bee!" said Mrs. Jimmie, softly. "How charming she is!"

"Yet she wouldn't approve of your going to Clovertown," said Jimmie.
"She hates the bucolic. Idyls and pastorals are not in it with our rue
de la Paix Bee. I'll bet she will never come to see you at Peach
Orchard."

"Let us hope for