“It was—and is mine!” rejoined her husband, steadily, unmoved by her unwonted petulance. “As it is, you are pale and heavy-eyed. You have had but five hours of sleep.”
“My head aches!” passing her hand over her forehead. “That will go off, by-and-by. Baby! come to mamma, and let dear papa get his breakfast in peace. Let me pour out a cup of hot coffee for you, first.”
Her softened tone and fond smile cleared the atmosphere for them all. Arthur sunned himself in her presence as a half-torpid bird on an early spring day. The children prattled merrily in answer to the pretty mother’s blandishments; the baby stood up in her lap to make her fat arms meet behind her neck. She looked pleadingly into the proud face bent over mother and child. He was startled to see that the sweet eyes were misty.
“Dear! can’t you go with me to-night?”
He fairly staggered at the unexpected appeal.
“If I had known——” he began.
“Yes, I know! I ought to have spoken before you made your engagement. I was careless—forgetful—silly! I do nothing but silly things nowadays. But I wish you could go, darling!”
“I’m afraid it’s impossible,” said Arthur regretfully. “The president made a point of my attending the meeting. I am sorrier than you can be, little wife.”
She shook her head and tried to laugh.
“That shows how little you know about it! Don’t make any more engagements without consulting me. ‘I’m ower young’—not ‘to leave my mammy yet’—but to be running about the world without my dear, old, steady-going husband—and I’m not willing to do it any longer.”