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“But I’m going to give you one piece of advice, dearie,” said she, the night before the ceremony. Mary, wrapped in all the mysterious thoughts of that unreal time, winced inwardly. This was all so new, so sacred, so inexpressible to her that she felt Mamma couldn’t understand it. Of course she had been married twice herself, but then she was so different.

“It’s this,” said Mrs. Honeywell, cheerfully, after a pause. “There’ll come a time when you’ll simply hate him–“

“Oh, Mamma!” Mary said, with distaste.

“Yes, there will,” her mother went on placidly, “and then you just say to yourself that the best of ’em’s only a big boy, and treat him as you’d treat a boy!”

“All right, darling!” Mary laughed, kissing her. But she thought to herself that the men Mamma had married were of very different caliber from George.

Parenthood developed new gravities in George, all life became purer, sweeter, more simple, with Mary beside him. Through the stress of their first married years they became more and more closely devoted, marvelled more and more at the miracle that had brought them together. But Mamma suffered to this. The atmosphere of gay irresponsibility and gossip that she brought with her on her frequent visitations became very trying to George. He resented her shallowness, her youthful gowns, her extravagances. Mary found herself eternally defending Mamma, in an unobtrusive sort of way, inventing and assuming congenialities between her and George. It had been an unmitigated blessing to have the little lady start gayly off for Cousin Will’s, only a month ago–And now here she was again!

Mary sighed, pushed her letters aside, and stared thoughtfully out of the window. The first of New York’s blazing summer days hung heavily over the gay Drive and the sluggish river. The Jersey hills were blurred with heat. Dull, brief whistles of river-craft came to her; under the full leafage of trees on the Drive green omnibuses lumbered; baby carriages, each with its attendant, were motionless in the shade. Mary drew her desk telephone toward her, pushed it away again, hesitated over a note. Then she sent for her cook and discussed the day’s meals.

Alone again, she reached a second time for the telephone, waited for a number, and asked for Mr. Venable.

“George, this is Mary,” said Mary, a moment later. Silence. “George, darling,” said Mary, in a rush, “I am so sorry about Mamma, and I realize how trying it is for you, and I’m so sorry I took what you said at breakfast that way. Don’t worry, dear, we’ll settle her somehow. And I’ll spare you all I can! George, would you like me to come down to the office at six, and have dinner somewhere? She won’t be here until tomorrow. And my new hat has come, and I want to wear it–?” She paused; there was a moment’s silence before George’s warm, big voice answered:

“You are absolutely the most adorable angel that ever breathed, Mary. You make me ashamed of myself. I’ve been sitting here as BLUE as indigo. Everything going wrong! Those confounded Carter people got the order for the Whitely building–you remember I told you about it? It was a three-million dollar contract.

“Oh, George!” Mary lamented.

“Oh, well, it’s not serious, dear. Only I thought we ‘had it nailed.’ I’d give a good deal to know how Carter does it. Sometimes I have the profoundest contempt for that fellow’s methods–then he lands something like this. I don’t believe he can handle it, either.”

“I hate that man!” said Mary, calmly. George laughed boyishly.

“Well, you were an angel to telephone,” he said. “Come early, sweetheart, and we’ll go up to Macbeth’s,–they say it’s quite an extraordinary collection. And don’t worry–I’ll be nice to Mamma. And wear your blessed little pink hat–“

Mary went upstairs ten minutes later with a singing heart. Let Mamma and her attendant problems arrive tomorrow if she must. Today would be all their own! She began to dress at three o’clock, as pleasantly excited as a girl. She laid her prettiest white linen gown beside the pink hat on the bed, selected an especially frilled petticoat, was fastidious over white shoes and silken stockings.