"AREN'T you a bit timid about driving?" asked Bettina, as she stepped into the car beside Mrs. Dixon.
"Not now. You see, I've been practicing every evening with Frank, and he says that I am as good a driver as he is! Oh, Bettina, we are having so much fun these days! The little house is a great success, and I'm really learning to cook! I've had some dreadful failures; but Frank doesn't seem to mind. You see, I know he gets a good meal downtown at noon, and so I don't worry about him."
"Look, Charlotte! What lovely goldenrod! We must stop and get some! Don't you love it?"
"Indeed I do! I have a rough brown waste-paper basket that it looks stunning in. I set the jar of goldenrod right inside! Frank is very fond of it."
"Charlotte, you're just like a bride yourself—thinking about Frank's likes and dislikes."
"Am I?" laughed Mrs. Dixon as her color rose. "Well, lately Frank seems just like his old self! He appreciates everything so, and is so nice at home! And it seems that he can hardly get home quickly enough! We have enjoyed getting things settled and planning our future. Next year we may build a house of our own, but I don't care to have it too large to manage easily."
"Are you going to stop here?" asked Bettina, as Mrs. Dixon slowed down after a peaceful stretch of level road.
"Yes, I want to show you something."
A short path led to a small house close to the road, but almost hidden in a tangle of flowers and wild grapevines.