“So I do, my love, but business is a trifle dull just now. I am afraid we shall have to wait until the prevailing prejudice against Rubens and St. Ethelberta blows over, as it were. I thought perhaps we might make a short trip to Boston and back. How would that suit you?”
“I would be satisfied with it, dear, of course,” said Leonie.
Mr. Weems heard her answer with the serene consciousness that he had a free pass for two over that particular route, and that even upon a wedding journey there would be no need to be actually riotous in the matter of hotel expenses.
“And when we get home, and settle down, may I keep a parrot, Julius?”
“Well,” replied Mr. Weems, “the question is sudden and somewhat irrelevant, but I should think you might; provided, of course, you selected one that has not been taught to use profane language, and to imitate a screeching wheelbarrow with too great accuracy.”
“You are so kind! And, Julius?”
“What, sweet?”
“If papa should die, could dear mamma come to live with us?”
“I’ll tell you what, Leonie, suppose we postpone the consideration of some of these distressing contingencies until they actually present themselves! I am perfectly willing to wrestle with a grief when it comes, but there is no use of putting crape on a door-knocker until there is bereavement in the family circle.”
“That is true, dear. And, Julius?”