having his own way unquestioned. He had told me once that his mother
and sister had spoiled him, and I reflected that he evidently expected
me to go on in the same way.

On the other hand, I had been absolutely my own mistress for years,
the little mother in a way being more my child than I hers. Accustomed
to decide for myself every question of my life I had no desire,
neither had I intention of doing, any clinging vine act with Dicky
posing at the strong oak.

But I also had the common sense to see that there would be real issues
in our lives without wasting our ammunition over a cat. Then, too, the
remembrance of Dicky's happy face when he thought he was surprising me
tugged at my heart.

"If he wants a cat, a cat he shall have," I said to myself, and
calling my unwelcome guest to me with a resolute determination to do
my duty by the beast, no matter how distasteful the task, I was just
putting a saucer of milk in front of her when the door opened and
Dicky came in like a whirlwind.

"How do you wear sackcloth and ashes?" he cried, catching me in his
arms as he made the query. "If you've got any in the house bring 'em
along and I'll put them on. Seriously, girl, I'm awfully sorry I let
my temper out of its little cage. No nice thing getting angry at
your bride, because she doesn't like cats. I'll take the beast back
tomorrow."

"Indeed, you'll do no such thing," I protested. "You're not the only
one who is sorry, I made up my mind before you came back not only to