“This is much better than anything at Sherry’s,” cried Stella, beaming upon her.
We sat a long while looking at each other across the small table, and then we wandered out into the dewy evening and our feet took us into the pines, where in the darkness we stopped by a now sacred spot and held each other close in silence. Then we went back into the south room.
“Oh, if the curtain stuff would only hurry up and come!” cried my wife.
“You must learn patience–Mrs. Upton,” said I, while we both laughed sillily over the title, as others have done before us, no doubt. Presently Mrs. Pillig’s anxious face appeared at the door. She seemed desirous of speaking, and doubtful how to begin.
“What is it, Mrs. Pillig?” I asked.
“Well, sir,” she said, hesitantly, “I suppose now you are married you won’t need me, after all.” She paused. “I rented my house,” she added.
“Need you!” I cried. “Why now I shall need you more than ever!”
She smiled faintly, still looking dubious. Stella went over to her. “What he means is, that I’m a poor goose who doesn’t know any more about keeping house than Buster does about astronomy,” she laughed. “Of course you’ll stay, Mrs. Pillig, and teach me.”
“Thank you, Miss–I mean Missus,” said Mrs. Pillig, backing out.
“Be careful,” I warned. “If you let Mrs. Pillig think you’re so very green, she’ll begin to boss you.”