think it would be lovely--all together.''

Marie smiled, but she shook her head.

``Lovely--but not practical, dear.''

Billy laughed ruefully.

``I know; you're worrying about those puddings
of yours. You're afraid somebody is going to
interfere with your making quite so many as you
want to; and Cyril is worrying for fear there'll
be somebody else in the circle of his shaded lamp
besides his little Marie with the light on her hair,
and the mending basket by her side.''

``Billy, what are you talking about?''

Billy threw a roguish glance into her friend's
amazed blue eyes.

``Oh, just a little picture Cyril drew once for
me of what home meant for him: a room with
a table and a shaded lamp, and a little woman
beside it with the light on her hair and a great
basket of sewing by her side.''

Marie's eyes softened.

``Did he say--that?''