``I know, but boxes are so much easier and
cleaner than--just fingers,'' apologized an anxiously
serious voice.

Marie answered with an indignant, grieved
glance and hurried on.

``And the flowers--roses, dozens of them,
in December! Billy, I can't let you do all this
for me.''

``Nonsense, dear!'' laughed Billy. ``Why, I
love to do it. Besides, when you're gone, just
think how lonesome I'll be! I shall have to adopt
somebody else then--now that Mary Jane has
proved to be nothing but a disappointing man
instead of a nice little girl like you,'' she finished
whimsically.

Marie did not smile. The frown still lay
between her delicate brows.

``And for my trousseau--there were so many
things that you simply would buy!''

``I didn't get one of the egg-beaters,'' Billy
reminded her anxiously.

Marie smiled now, but she shook her head, too.