Family Pride

So absorbed was she in her reverie as not to hear Wilford's step as he came in, but when he stood behind her and took her head playfully between his hands, she started up, feeling that the weather had changed; it was not as cold and dreary in Boston as she imagined, neither did mother's bed seem as desirable a place to rest upon as the shoulder where she laid her head, playing with Wilford's buttons, and saying to him at last: "You went out to telegraph, didn't you?"

He had gone out with the intention of telegraphing as she desired, but in the hall below he had met with an old acquaintance who talked with him so long that he entirely forgot his errand until Katy recalled it to his mind, making him feel very uncomfortable as he frankly told her of his forgetfulness.

"It is too late now," he added; "besides you could only see them for a moment, just long enough to make you cry--a thing I do not greatly desire, inasmuch as I wish my wife to look her best when I present her to my family, and with red eyes she couldn't, you know."

Katy knew it was settled, and choking back her tears she tried to listen, while Wilford, having fairly broken the ice with regard to his family, told her how anxious he was that she should make a good first impression upon his mother. Did Katy remember that Mrs. Morey whom they met at Paris, and could she not throw a little of her air into her manner--that is, could she not drop her girlishness when in the presence of others and be a little more dignified? When alone with him he liked to have her just what she was, a loving, affectionate little wife, but the world looked on such things differently. Would Katy try?

Wilford, when he commenced, had no definite idea as to what he should say, and without meaning it he made Katy moan piteously: "I don't know what you mean. I would do anything if I knew how. Tell me, how shall I be dignified?"

She was crying so hard that Wilford, while mentally calling himself a fool and a brute, could only try to comfort her, telling her she need not be anything but what she was--that his mother and sisters would love her just as he did--and that daily association with them would teach her all that was necessary.

Katy's tears were stopped at last; but the frightened, anxious look did not leave her face, even though Wilford tried his best to divert her mind. A nervous terror of her new relations had gained possession of her heart, and nearly the entire night she lay awake, pondering in her mind what Wilford had said, and thinking how terrible it would be if he should be disappointed in her after all. The consequence of this was that a very white, tired face sat opposite Wilford next morning at the breakfast served in their private parlor; nor did it look much fresher even after they were in the cars and rolling out of Boston. But when Worcester was reached, and the old home waymarks began to grow familiar, the color came stealing back, until the cheeks burned with an unnatural red, and the blue eyes fairly danced as they rested on the hills of Silverton.