"You wouldn't grudge me those?" she answered. "Surely, even with the war, little things like that might go on?"
Mr. Bannockburn sent his eyes round the room on a tour of critical exploration.
"Yes," he continued, "and how can you do with a fire—at any rate such a fire—on a day like this? The room is like an oven." He scowled murderously at the innocent flames and opened the window.
"I felt distinctly chilly," said Mrs. Bannockburn. "Besides, a fire is so much more cheerful."
"Cheerful!" said Mr. Bannockburn with a snarl. "I'm glad something is cheerful."
"My dear," said his wife soothingly, "you're over-worried. You've had a hard day at the office. But I've got something to show you that will make you happy again." She smiled gaily.
"Happy!" Mr. Bannockburn echoed with abysmal bitterness. "Happy!" He groaned.
"Yes, happy," said his wife. "Now drink your tea," she added, "and then light a cigar and tell me all about it."
"Cigars!" said. Mr. Bannockburn; "I've done with cigars. At any rate with Havanas. We're on the brink of ruin, I tell you."
"Not any longer," said his wife with a little confident laugh. "That's all right now. Taking the new name was to settle that, you know."