done, all alone, in the new house?"

"In the new house?" she cried. "Oh, Howard--you haven't taken it!"

"I haven't signed the lease," he replied importantly, smiling down at
her, and thrusting his hands in his pockets.

"I don't want it," said Honora; "I don't want it. I told you that I'd
decided I didn't want it when we were there. Oh, Howard, why did you take
it?"

He whistled. He had the maddening air of one who derives amusement from
the tantrums of a spoiled child.

"Well," he remarked, "women are too many for me. If there's any way of
pleasing 'em I haven't yet discovered it. The night before last you had
to have the house. Nothing else would do. It was the greatest find in New
York. For the first time in months you get up for breakfast--a pretty
sure sign you hadn't changed your mind. You drag me to see it, and when
you land me there, because I don't lose my head immediately, you say you
don't want it. Of course I didn't take you seriously--I thought you'd set
your heart on it, so I wired an offer to Shorter to-day, and he accepted
it. And when I hand you this pleasant little surprise, you go right up in
the air."

He had no air of vexation, however, as he delivered this somewhat
reproachful harangue in the picturesque language to which he commonly
resorted. Quite the contrary. He was still smiling, as Santa Claus must
smile when he knows he has another pack up the chimney.