takes us for
suckers."

"Oh," I gasped. I had never taken myself for a "sucker" before, and even
in such good company as that of my husband it gave me a jar to hear the
possibility mentioned.

"I am convinced of one thing," he went on, "Mary has been badly spoiled,
and, while I have no objection to her ruling us in any way she likes, I
am going to compel her to obey orders when she gets them."

"Oh, be careful!" I cried.

"I'm going to. But first I am going to investigate the labyrinths of her
mind. If it is that she respects food more than she does our feelings,
I'll do one thing. If it is that kindness won't work, I'll try severity.
But I'm going to make that old woman obey me and have dinner on time."

The Angel delivered this alarming ultimatum without raising his voice and
with no more emphasis than he would use in saying:

"May I trouble you for the salt?"

I leaned back and looked at him.

"As if you could be severe with any one, you Angel!"

From which remark the knowing can easily deduce the length of time we had
been married.

It was then ten minutes to eight. We had come in at six, and at five we
had telephoned her to have dinner promptly at seven.

"I hope you had a good tea," said Aubrey, looking at the clock.

"I did. It isn't that I am hungry. I'm mad," I answered, genially.

"I am not mad. I am hungry," said Aubrey.

"Being hungry for a man is the same as being mad for a woman," I observed.

Aubrey grinned.

"Now," he said, mysteriously. "Don't eat any dinner to-night, and follow
my lead in everything."

"Don't eat any dinner!" I cried, in a whisper. "I am starv--"

"Hush," he whispered. "You said you weren't hungry."

Although we were only ten feet away from her and in plain view, Mary
struck the Roman chime of bells, by which she always announces dinner.

As we took our seats the clock struck eight. The table was a dream of
loveliness. Wedding-silver, wedding-glass, wedding-linen graced it at
every turn, for Mary always decorates for us as for a banquet.

Never has the fragrant odour of soup assailed me as it did on that
particular night. Mary hovered around, watching to see how we liked it.
We tasted it, and laid our spoons down. We talked languidly, without
noticing her.

"What's the matter with the soup?" she finally demanded when she could
stand it no longer. We looked up as if surprised.

"Why, nothing," said Aubrey. "I don't care for it. That's all.