“Why, darling!” he said in his rapture; “why didn’t you tell me all this before? Here you have been growing sad and blue, and losing your vivacity and spirits, and never told me why!”
“I thought it was my duty, John, to try to bear it,” said Lillie, with the sweet look of a virgin saint. “I thought perhaps I should get used to things in time; and I think it is a wife’s duty to accommodate herself to her husband’s circumstances.”
“No, it’s a husband’s duty to accommodate himself to his wife’s wishes,” said John. “What’s that fellow’s address? I’ll write to him about doing our house, forthwith.”
“But, John, do pray tell Gracie that it’s your wish. I don’t want her to think that it’s I that am doing this. Now, pray do think whether you really want it yourself. You see it must be so natural for you to like the old things! They must have associations, and I wouldn’t for the world, now, be the one to change them; and, after all, how silly it was of me to feel blue!”
“Don’t say any more, Lillie. Let me see,—next week,” he said, taking out his pocket-book, and looking over his memoranda,—“next week I’ll take you down to Newport; and you write to-day to your mother to meet you there, and be your guest. I’ll write and engage the rooms at once.”
“I don’t know what I shall do without you, John.”
“Oh, well, I couldn’t stay possibly! But I may run down now and then, for a night, you know.”
“Well, we must make that do,” said Lillie, with a pensive sigh.
Thus two very important moves on Miss Lillie’s checker-board of life were skilfully made. The house was to be refitted, and the Newport precedent established.