as they called the baby, presently was brought in, and had his own
meal, before the old-fashioned coal fire. Nancy sat dreaming over
the small curved form.

"We'll think this is very funny, some day!" she said, dauntlessly.

Bert merely looked at her. But after a while he tried to tell her
what he thought about it, and so made their third New Year
memorable to her forever.

She settled down quickly, in the new quarters; some visionary,
romancing phase of Nancy's character and Nancy's roses disappeared
for a time. She baked and boiled, sewed on buttons, bandaged
fingers, rose gallantly to the days' demands. She learned the
economical value of soups and salads, and schooled herself, at
least every other day, to leave the boys for an hour or two with
Elite, and walk out for a little bracing solitude. Bert watched
her in admiring amazement. His wife was a wonder!

Sometimes, on a cold afternoon, she walked down to meet Bert, and
they went together to dinner. Their talk was practical now, of
suits and rubber overshoes and milk bills. And Nancy was too tired
to walk home; they went home in the rubber-scented dampness of a
surface car.

Sometimes, as she went through the morning routine, the baths,
bottles, dishes, the picking up, the disheartening conferences
over the ice box, she wondered what had become of the old southern
belle, Nancy Barrett, who had laughed and flirted and only a few
years ago, who had been such a strong and pretty and confident