"That's where you're wrong, Lil," returned Dicky easily. "We're going
to have you all up some night soon."

"See that you do," she returned, tweaking his ear as we passed on to
our seats.

I had not spoken during the conversation. I had shaken the hand of the
woman and smiled at her.

But over and over again in my brain this question was revolving:

"Who is this unpleasant woman who calls my husband 'Dicky-bird,' and
who is called 'Lil' by him?"

But I love the very air of the theatre, so as Dicky and I sank into
the old-fashioned brocaded seats I resolutely put away from my mind
all disturbing thoughts of the woman in the lobby who appeared on such
good terms with my husband, and prepared to enjoy every moment of the
evening.

"Well done, Madge," Dicky whispered mischievously, as, after we had
been seated, I let my cloak drop from my shoulders without arising.
"You wriggled that off in the most approved manner."

"I ought to," I whispered back. "I've watched other women with envious
attention during all the lean years, when I wore tailor-mades to mill
and to meeting."

Dicky squeezed my hand under cover of the cloak. "No more lean years