your tea."

Marie let Osborn do all this, and he enjoyed his activity for her sake
as much as she enjoyed her inactivity. He unpinned her hat, took off
her coat as a nurse removes a child's coat, kneeled down to unlace her
boots, kissed each slim instep, and carried all the things neatly away
to their bedroom. Joyfully he unlocked the suit-case where he knew her
slippers reposed, for had he not packed them himself, for her, that
morning? He returned to the sitting-room and put them on.

"Mrs. Osborn Kerr at home!" he cried, standing to look down upon her.

"I do want my tea!" said Marie.

"I'll get it now, darling. You sit still. I adore waiting upon you,"
said Osborn, hurrying away.

It was fine to be in his own place, with his own wife, with the world
shut out and snubbed. As Osborn strode along the short and narrow
corridor to the kitchen he admired everything he saw. He confirmed his
own good taste and Marie's. The cream walls with black and white
etchings--more wedding presents--upon them, and the strip of plain
rose felt along the floor, could not be bettered. The kitchen was a
spotless little place, up-to-date in the matter of cupboards.
Everything was as up-to-date as he and Marie were. There was nothing
equal to this fresh and modern comfort.

Osborn looked in a cupboard and there he saw foods, enough to begin
on, placed there by the thoughtful Mrs. Amber. Upon the kitchen table
was a furnished tea-tray, the one woman knowing by instinct what the