Lavender and Old Lace

His last argument was convincing. "I won't do anything you don't want me

to do, dear," she said, with a new humility.

"I want you to be happy, dearest," he answered, quickly. "Just try my

way for a year--that's all I ask. I know your independence is sweet to

you, but the privilege of working for you with hand and brain, with your

love in my heart; with you at home, to be proud of me when I succeed and

to give me new courage when I fail, why, it's the sweetest thing I've

ever known."

"I'll have to go back to town very soon, though," she said, a little

later, "I am interrupting the honeymoon."

"We'll have one of our own very soon that you can't interrupt, and, when

you go back, I'm going with you. We'll buy things for the house."

"We need lots of things, don't we?" she asked.

"I expect we do, darling, but I haven't the least idea what they are.

You'll have to tell me."

"Oriental rugs, for one thing," she said, "and a mahogany piano, and an

instrument to play it with, because I haven't any parlour tricks, and

some good pictures, and a waffle iron and a porcelain rolling pin."

"What do you know about rolling pins and waffle irons?" he asked fondly.

"My dear boy," she replied, patronisingly, "you forget that in the days

when I was a free and independent woman, I was on a newspaper. I

know lots of things that are utterly strange to you, because, in all

probability, you never ran a woman's department. If you want soup, you

must boil meat slowly, and if you want meat, you must boil it rapidly,

and if dough sticks to a broom straw when you jab it into a cake, it

isn't done."

He laughed joyously. "How about the porcelain rolling pin?"

"It's germ proof," she rejoined, soberly.

"Are we going to keep house on the antiseptic plan?"

"We are--it's better than the installment plan, isn't it? Oh, Carl!" she

exclaimed, "I've had the brightest idea!"

"Spring it!" he demanded.

"Why, Aunt Jane's attic is full of old furniture, and I believe she'll

give it to us!"

His face fell. "How charming," he said, without emotion.

"Oh, you stupid," she laughed, "it's colonial mahogany, every stick of

it! It only needs to be done over!"

"Ruth, you're a genius."

"Wait till I get it, before you praise me. Just stay here a minute and

I'll run up to see what frame of mind she's in."

When she entered the kitchen, the bride was busily engaged in getting

supper. Uncle James, with a blue gingham apron tied under his arms, was

awkwardly peeling potatoes. "Oh, how good that smells!" exclaimed Ruth,

as a spicy sheet of gingerbread was taken out of the oven.