* * * * *
From this dream of bliss Sara plunged directly into a deep vortex of house-cleaning, for she was determined that the premises should be in perfect order upon the Macons' arrival. For four days chaos reigned, with the broom and scrubbing-brush for prime ministers. Morton took refuge at the store, but poor Sam, not so fortunate, had to face it all; and he felt as if the deluge had come again, with some new and harrowing accompaniments, in which woman's rights and demands were prominent. Then, on the fifth, they rested from their labors in the clean, soap- charged atmosphere—walking gingerly over spick and span carpets, laying each book and paper demurely in place, and gazing, at a proper distance, through diamond-bright windows; and on the sixth the Macons arrived.
They seemed delighted to be at home once more, and both looked unusually well, having gained in flesh and color. The professor was genial and serene, Mrs. Macon full of life and sparkle. She ran from room to room, like a child; then through the gardens and shrubberies, returning quite out of breath.
"O Henry!" she cried, "isn't it nice to find everything in such good condition? I remember after our last long trip it was really dreadful for a week or two—everything yellow and musty; mice and cockroaches camping in the library and bedrooms, and spiders everywhere. By the way, Sara, have you had to fight moths much?"
"Yes, occasionally. Molly has made a raid on them every week or so, with gasoline, I believe—I don't think they've made much headway."
"Well, it's perfectly charming; and I should break out into 'Home, sweet
Home,' or something else equally original, if I had an atom of a voice.
Now tell me all the news,—who's married, and to whom have the storks
brought the blessed babies?"
"Yes, don't forget the babies," laughed her husband. "Marian has spent most of her trip acting as nursemaid to poor little sticky-faced souls, whose mothers were utterly discouraged, I'm daily expecting that the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children will send her a gold medal, for I am sure she richly deserves it."
"Well, I shall be far more proud of it than of any old fossilized remnant of antediluvial times, I can assure you," was the quick retort. "And Henry needn't say anything, either, for he walked the coach-aisle a good half-hour with a crying baby yesterday—to be sure it had a lovely little mamma, who hadn't an idea how to manage it."
"Yes, it was all for the mamma," assented the professor demurely, with a twinkle at Molly, who was heartily enjoying the scene, and only impatient to put in her oar, as now.
"Did you have many engaged couples on the train?" she questioned wickedly. "I think they're worse than babies—so uninteresting, you know, besides being oblivious to the point of idiotcy. I've been so tired picking up after—oh! I nearly forgot myself—I mean generally speaking, of course."