“And ‘The Polite Match-Maker’ would not approve of Wee Wifie, you think?” and Sir Hugh tried to repress a smile.
“Oh, I am sure of it,” she returned, seriously; “the forms of address were so different.”
“Give me an example, then, or I can hardly profit by the rule.”
Fay had no need to consider, but she hesitated for all that. She was never sure how Hugh would take things when he had that look on his face. She did not want him to laugh at her.
“Of course it is old-fashioned, as Aunt Griselda says; but I know the ‘Match-Maker’ considered ‘Honored Wife,’ or ‘Dearest Madame,’ the correct form of address.” And as Hugh burst out laughing, she continued, in a slightly injured tone—“Of course I know that people do not use those terms now, but all the same, I am sure Aunt Griselda would not think Wee Wifie sufficiently respectful,”—and here Fay looked ready to cry—“and though the book is old-fashioned she said many of the rules were excellent.”
“But, Fay,” remonstrated her husband, “does it not strike you that the rules must be obsolete, savoring of the days of Sir Charles Grandison and Clarissa Harlowe? Pshaw!” with a frown, “I forgot I was gauging a child’s intellect. Well,” turning to her, “what is your busy little mind hatching now?”
“Dear Hugh?” stammered Fay, timidly, “I know I am very ignorant, and I ought to know better, and I will look in the dictionary as soon as I—but I do not know the meaning of the word obsolete.”
“Pshaw!” again muttered Sir Hugh; then aloud, “The term, honored madame, signifies disused, out of date, ancient, antiquated, antique, neglected, and so on.”
“Ah, Hugh, now I know you are laughing at me; but,” rather anxiously, “the ‘Match-Maker’ can not be all wrong, can it? It is only what you call obsolete.”
“My dear child,” answered Hugh, gravely, “you can trust your husband’s judgment, I hope, before even this wonderful book—in this matter I am sure you can; and in my opinion the prettiest name I could have selected is this ‘Wee Wifie.’ It pleases me,” continued Hugh, his fine features working with secret pain. “It is no name of the past, it touches on no hoped-for future, and it reminds me of my little wife’s claim to forbearance and sympathy from her extreme youth and ignorance of the world. To others you may be Lady Redmond, but to me you must ever be my Wee Wifie.”