appetites they became absorbed in one of the chief events of the
day.

"Well," said my wife, querulously, "how are you getting on with your
problem?"

"Take this extra bit of steak and I'll tell you after the children
are asleep," I said.

"I can't eat another mouthful," she exclaimed, pushing back her
almost untasted supper. "Broiling the steak was enough for me."

"You are quite tired out, dear," I said, very gently.

Her face softened immediately at my tone and tears came into her
eyes.

"I don't know what is the matter with me," she faltered. "I am so
nervous some days that I feel as if I should fly to pieces. I do try
to be patient, but I know I'm growing cross!"

"Oh now, mamma," spoke up warm-hearted Merton; "the idea of your
being cross."

"She IS cross," Bobsey cried; "she boxed my ears this very day."

"And you deserved it," was Merton's retort. "It's a pity they are
not boxed oftener."

"Yes, Robert, I did," continued my wife, sorrowfully. "Bobsey ran