“The first time I heard its cheerful little note, John,” Dot continued, “was the night you brought me home—when you brought me to my new home here; its little mistress. Nearly a year ago. You recollect, John?”
Oh, yes. John remembered. I should think so!
“Its chirp was such a welcome to me. It seemed so full of promise and encouragement. It seemed to say you would be kind and gentle with me, and would not expect to find an old head on the shoulders of your foolish little wife. I had a fear of that, John, then.”
John thoughtfully patted one of the shoulders, and then the head of his little wife, as though to say, “No, no; he had no such expectation; he had been quite content to take them as they were.”
“The cricket spoke the truth, John, for you have been, I am sure, the most considerate, the most affectionate of husbands. This has been a happy home, John; and I love the cricket for its sake.”
“Why, so do I, then,” said the carrier, “so do I, Dot.”
“I love it for the many times I have heard it,” Dot went on musing, “and the many thoughts its harmless music has given me. Sometimes, in the twilight, when I have felt a little down-hearted, John—before the precious baby came to keep me company and make the house gay—when I have thought how lonely you would be if I should die, or I should be if you should die, its chirp, chirp, chirp, upon the hearth has filled me with new trust and confidence. For you see, John, I was afraid, being so much younger than you, that you might not find me at all suitable as a wife, and that you might find it hard to learn to love me as you would if I were older and had had more experience. I was thinking just before you came in to-night, dear, how the cricket has cheered me at such times; and I love it for their sake.”
“And so do I,” repeated John. “But, Dot! How you talk! I learn to love you? I had learned that long before I brought you here to be the cricket’s little mistress, Dot.”
She laid her hand, an instant, on his arm, and looked up at him as if she would have told him something. Next moment, she was down upon her knees before the basket of packages which John had brought in from his cart. Perhaps some of them would be called for; the others he would deliver in the morning.
“There are not many of them to-night, John. Why, what’s this round box? Heart alive, John, it’s a wedding-cake!”