they had gone to the theatre, and the mother had talked to her two
sons of the day's school experiences, before they settled down to
their evening of study, she returned to the dining-room, and, as Mary
had a headache and had had a busy day, she assisted in washing and
wiping the unusual number of soiled dishes, and in setting the
breakfast table. At nine o'clock she dragged her weary self upstairs.
As she passed the door of her sanctum on the way to her bed-chamber,
she paused, then entered, and lighted the gas-jet over her desk. On it
lay the page of foolscap, blank but for the words:

"He was--"

The day had gone and the plot with it.

With a half-sob she sat down and wrote with tired and trembling
fingers:

_"He was--this morning. He isn't now!"_

But will not my readers agree with me that she was a genuine wife,
mother, housekeeper,--in short, a "chink-filler?"




CHAPTER VII.

MUST-HAVES AND MAY-BES.