But Mrs. Bankside had many misgivings as she pursued her audacious way; the busy hours flying away from her, and the always astonishing checks flying toward her in gratifying accumulation. She came down to her well-planned dinners gracious and sweet; always effectively dressed; spent the cosy quiet evenings with her husband, or went out with him, with a manner of such increased tenderness and charm that his heart warmed anew to the wife of his youth; and he even relented a little toward her miscellaneous ancestors.
As the days shortened and darkened she sparkled more and more; with little snatches of song now and then; gay ineffectual strumming on the big piano; sudden affectionate darts at him, with quaintly distributed caresses.
"Molly!" said he, "I don't believe you're a day over twenty! What makes you act so?"
"Don't you like it, So?" she asked him. That was the nearest she ever would approximate to his name.
He did like it, naturally, and even gave her an extra ten dollars to buy Christmas presents with; while he meditated giving her an electric runabout;—to her!—who was afraid of a wheelbarrow!
When the day arrived and the family were gathered together, Mrs. Bankside, wearing the diamond brooch, the gold bracelet, the point lace handkerchief—everything she could carry of his accumulated generosity—and such an air of triumphant mystery that the tree itself was dim beside her; handed out to her astonished relatives such an assortment of desirable articles that they found no words to express their gratitude.
"Why, Mother!" said Jessie, whose husband was a minister and salaried as such, "Why, Mother—how did you know we wanted just that kind of a rug!—and a sewing-machine too! And this lovely suit—and—and—why Mother!"
But her son-in-law took her aside and kissed her solemnly. He had wanted that particular set of sociological books for years—and never hoped to get them; or that bunch of magazines either.
Nellie had "married rich;" she was less ostentatiously favored; but she had shown her thankfulness a week ago—when her mother had handed her a check.
"Sh, sh! my dear!" her mother had said, "Not one word. I know! What pleasant weather we're having."