"Is there anything wrong, Livy?" he asked. "You seem in the doldrums." And as she smiled and shook her head, he continued cheerfully, "I am glad to hear it. Do you know I have actually a free evening until ten? I feel as though I was a schoolboy again, and had an unexpected holiday. In my opinion, only busy people know how to enjoy a holiday properly."
"And I am really to have you to myself for three whole hours," and Olivia's face beamed with delight. As Marcus drew his chair to the fire and took up the long-neglected book, Greta's troubles went into the background.
"Oh don't read just now," she said, imploringly; "let us talk a little first, Marcus, is it very naughty of me? but once or twice during the last few days, when you have been too busy to stay with me, or to play with Dot, I have thought that even prosperity will have its limitations; that being a successful doctor means that I shall see far too little of you."
Then Marcus drew back his head with one of his boyish laughs.
"Oh, Livy, what a child you are! have you just found out that? How delightfully illogical a woman can be! It stands to reason that I cannot be in two places at once."
"Oh, of course your patients will want you, and I am not really grumbling. Do you suppose that I shall not be proud of your success? I was only trying to tell you that, in spite of all our difficulties and little petty troubles, I have been perfectly happy."
"Especially on Saturday evenings, when you totted up your little red book, and the balance was always on the wrong side. I have seen you pull an uncommonly long face on those occasions. I am not quite sure about the perfect happiness then." Then, as Olivia looked reproachfully at him, his teasing manner changed.
"Dear Olive," he said, tenderly, "I am not really laughing at you. I understand quite well what you mean. I am not such an old married man that I cannot appreciate a compliment like that, when my wife tells me with her own lips that my society can sweeten even poverty and hardship.
"You are quite right, love; prosperity will have its limitations; these pleasant evening hours will often have to be sacrificed. But in all professions we must take the rough with the smooth. We must just put our shoulder to the wheel, you and I, and 'Doe the nexte thinge,' eh, Livy?"
"Oh, yes," she answered, eagerly, "and yours is such a grand work. I have always been so thankful you are a doctor. When I was quite young I used to tell mother that I wanted to marry a clergyman. But I think a doctor comes next. Oh, Marcus, did you ever read Whittier's verses on this subject? Greta brought me his poems and read them to me. I think I know the last two verses by heart,—