"Yes, Stevens, and I earn it, too." And she pointed to the typewriter with a certain pride.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said her former butler contritely, returning the money quickly to his pocket. "Only, don't let her know ..."
When Foster came back into the room, they were standing over the typewriter, Mrs. Challoner explaining its mechanism.
"Oh, what a fine thing it is to have an education!" exclaimed the young wife, looking sharply at her husband; but her penetrating glance was too much for Stevens, and turning quickly on his heel, he proceeded to rearrange the chairs.
"Hey, there!" suddenly called out Foster. "Why aren't you more of a gentleman—where's your manners? Run along there, like a good fellow, and put some water in the tea-kettle!" Stevens lost no time in obeying; then drawing close to Mrs. Challoner, Foster whispered:—
"This is for you, ma'am, but don't let Stevens know, for he's as tight as a drum-head."
"But," protested Mrs. Challoner, looking at the other in astonishment.
"Please, I saved it just for you," insisted Foster, with a look of disappointment on her face.
"Really, Foster, I don't need it," declared Mrs. Challoner stoutly but kindly. "I can't take it. Some day, perhaps, I may need money, and then I'll send for you." And then quietly changing the subject: "How fresh you look, Foster! And what a man you've married! There is no need to ask if you are happy, for——"
"Well," said Stevens, approaching them, "we must be going now, for Bernhardt will be waiting for us."