PART TWO - CHAPTER I

by Kathleen Norris

　　Yet Dr. James Studdiford, walking down to his club, an hour later, withthe memory of his aunt's joyous congratulations ringing in his ears, andof Julia's last warm little kiss upon his cheek, was perhaps moremiserable than he had been before in the course of his life. Julia washis girl—his own girl—and the thrill of her submission, the enchantingrealization that she loved him, rose over and over again in his heart,like the rising of deep waters—only to wash against the firm barrierof that hideous Fact.

　　Jim could do nothing with the Fact. It did not seem to belong to him, orto Julia, to their love and future together, or to her gallant,all-enduring past. Julia was Julia—that was the only significant thing,the sweetest, purest, cleverest woman he knew. And she loved him! A rushof ecstasy flooded his whole being; how sweet she was when he made hersay she loved him—when she surrendered her hands, when she raised hergravely smiling blue eyes! What a little wife she would be, what a gaylittle comrade, and some day, perhaps, what a mother!

　　Again the Fact. After such a little interval of radiant peace it seemedto descend upon him with an ugly violence. It was true; nothing thatthey could do now would alter it. And, of course, the thing was serious.If anything in life was serious, this was. It was frightful—it seemedsacrilegious to connect such things for an instant with Julia. Dearlittle Julia, with her crisp little uniforms, her authority in theclassroom, her charming deference to Aunt Sanna! And she loved him——

　　"Damn it, the thing either counts or it doesn't count!" Jim muttered,striding down Market Street, past darkened shops and corners wherelights showed behind the swinging doors of saloons. Either it was allimportant or it was not important at all. With most women, allimportant, of course. With Julia—Jim let his mind play for a fewminutes with the thought of renunciation. There would be no trouble withJulia, and Aunt Sanna could easily be silenced.

　　He shook the mere vision from him with an angry shake of the head. Shebelonged to him now, his little steadfast, serious girl. And she haddeceived them all these years! Not that he could blame her for it!Naturally, Aunt Sanna would never have overlooked that, and presumablyno other woman would have engaged her, knowing it, even to wash dishesand sweep steps.

　　"Lord, what a world for women!" thought Jim, in simple wonder. Hunteddown mercilessly, pushed at the first sign of weakening, they know notwhere, and then lost! Hundreds of thousands of them forever outcast, topay through all the years that are left to them for that hour ofyielding! Hundreds of thousands of them, and his Julia only differentbecause she had made herself so—

　　It seemed to Jim, in his club now, and sunk in a deep chair before thewood fire in the quiet library, that he could never marry her. It mustsimply be his sorrow to have loved Julia—God, how he did love her!

　　But, through all their years together, there must not be that shadowupon their happiness; it was too hideous to be endured. "It must beendured," mused Jim wretchedly. "It is true!

　　"Anyway," he went on presently, rousing himself, "the thing is no moreimportant than I choose to make it. Ordinarily, yes. But in this casethe thing to be considered is its effect on Julia's character, and ifever any soul was pure, hers is!

　　"And if we marry, we must simply make up our minds that the past isdead!" And suddenly Jim's heart grew lighter, and the black mood of thepast hour seemed to drop. He stretched himself luxuriously and foldedhis arms. "If Julia isn't a hundred per cent, sweeter and better andfiner than these friends of Babbie's, who go chasing about to bad playsand read all the rottenest books that are printed," he said, "thenthere's no such thing as a good woman! My little girl—I'm not halfworthy of her, that's the truth!"

　　"Hello, Jim!" said Gray Babcock, coming in from the theatre, andstretching his long cold hands over the dying fire. "We thought youmight come in to-night. Hazzard and Tom Parley had a little party forMiss Manning, of the 'Dainty Duchess' Company, you know—awfully prettygirl, straight, too, they say. There were a couple of other girls, andRoy Grinell—things were just about starting up when I came away!"

　　Jim rose, and kicked the scattered ends of a log toward the flame.

　　"I've not got much use for Hazzard," he observed, frowning.

　　Babcock gave a surprised and vacant laugh.

　　"Gosh! I thought all you people were good friends!"

　　"Hazzard's an ass," observed Jim irritably. "There are some things thataren't any too becoming to college kids—however, you can forgive them!But when it comes to an ass like Hazzard chasing to every beauty show,and taking good little girls to supper—"

　　"Alice don't care a whoop what he does," Babcock remarked hastily.

　　"Yes, so of course that makes everything all right," Jim saidironically. But Mr. Babcock was in no mood to be critical of tones.

　　"Sure it does!" he agreed contentedly. And when Jim had disgustedlydeparted, he remained still staring into the fire, a pleased smile uponhis face.

　　Julia spent the next day in bed fighting a threatened nervous breakdown,and Jim came to see her at two o'clock, and they had a long andmemorable talk, with Jim's chair drawn close to the couch, and thegirl's lax hand in his own. She had not slept all night, she told him,and he suspected that she had spent much of the long vigil in tears.Tears came again as she begged a hundred times to set him free, but hequieted her at last, and the old tragedy that had risen to haunt themwas laid. And if Julia felt a rush of blind gratitude and hope when theysealed their new compact with a kiss, Jim was no less happy—everythinghad come out wonderfully, and he loved Julia not less, but more than hehad ever loved her. The facts of her life, whatever they had been, hadmade her what she was; now let them all be forgotten.

　　"Still, you are not sorry I told you, Jim?" Julia asked.

　　"No, oh, no, dearest! If only because you would have been sure to wantto do it sooner or later—it would have worried you. But now I do know,Julie, you little Spartan! And this ends it. We'll never speak of itagain, and we'll never think of it again. You and I are the only two whoknow—And we love each other. When all's said and done, it's I that amnot good enough for you, darling, not worthy to tie your little shoelaces!"

　　"Oh, you!" Julia said, in great content.

　　The rest followed, as Julia herself said, like "a house-maid's dream."Jim went home to tell his own people that night, and the very nextmorning Julia, surprised and smiling, took in at the door a trim littlepackage that proved to be a blue-and-white Copenhagen teacup, with acard that bore only the words "Miss Barbara Lowe Toland." Julia twistedit in her fingers with a curious little thrill at the heart. The"nicest" people sent cups to engaged girls, the "nicest" people senttheir cards innocent of scribbled messages. She, Julia Page, was one ofthe "nicest" people now, and these were the first tentacles of her newestate reaching out to meet her.

　　themselves followed thick and fast, and in a day or two notes andcups—cups—cups—were coming from other people as well. The MissesSaunders, the Harvey Brocks, the George Chickerings, Mr. Peter Coleman,Mr. Jerome Phillips, Mrs. Arnold Keith, and Miss Mary Peacock—all hadfound time to go into Nathan Dohrmann's, or Gump's, or the White House,and pick out a beautiful cup to send Miss Julia Page.

　　Six weeks—five weeks—three weeks to the wedding, sang Julia's heart;the time ran away. She had dreaded having to meet Jim's friends, and haddreaded some possible embarrassment from an unexpected move on the partof her own family, but the days fled by, and the miracle of theirhappiness only expanded and grew sweeter, like a great opening rose.Their hours together, with so much to tell each other and so much todiscuss, no matter how short the parting had been, were hours ofexquisite delight. And as Julia's beauty and charm were praised on allsides, Jim beamed like a proud boy. As for Julia, every day brought toher notice something new to admire in this wonderful lover of hers: hisscowl as he fixed his engine, the smile that always met hers, theinstant soberness and attention with which he answered any question asto his work from the older doctor—all this was delightful to her. Andwhen he took her to luncheon, his careless big fingers on the ready goldpieces and his easy nod to the waiter were not lost upon Julia. She hadloved him for himself, but it was additionally endearing to learn thatother people loved him, too, to be stopped by elderly women who smiledand praised him, to have young people affectionately interested in hisplans.

　　"You know you are nothing but a small boy, Jim," Julia said one day,"just a sweet, happy kid! You were a spoiled and pitied little boy, withyour big eyes and your velvet suits and your patent leathers; you lovedevery one—every one loved you; you had your allowance, you were born tobe a surgeon, and chance made your guardian a doctor—"

　　"I fell down on my exams," Jim submitted meekly. "And there was a fellowat college who said I bored him!"

　　"Oh, dearest," Julia said, beginning to laugh at his rueful face, "andare those the worst things that ever happened to you?"

　　"About," said Jim, enjoying the consolatory little kiss she gave him.

　　"And your youngness baffles me," pursued Julia thoughtfully. "You're tenyears older than I am, you've been able to do a thousand things I neverdid, you're a rising young surgeon, and yet—and yet sometimes there's asort of level—level isn't the word!—a sort of positive youth about youthat makes me feel eighty! It's just as if you had been born everythingyou are, ready made! When you have to straighten a child's hip, you pushyour hair back like a nice little kid, and say to yourself, 'Sure—Ican do that!' You seem as pleased and surprised as any one else wheneverything comes out right!"

　　"Well, gosh! I never can put on any lugs!" said James, rumpling his hairin penitential enjoyment.

　　"I have to learn things so hard," Julia mused, "they dig down right intothe very soul of me—"

　　"You're implying that I'm shallow," said the doctor sternly. "You thinkI'm a pampered child of luxury, but I'm not! I just think I'm a prettyordinary fellow who came in for an extraordinary line of luck. I wouldhave made a pretty good bluff at supporting myself in any sort of life;as it was, when I was a youngster, growing up, I used to say to myself,'You think you're going to be rich, but half the poor men in the worldare born rich, anything may happen!' However, I enjoyed things just thesame, and I went to medical college just because Dad said every manought to be able to support himself. Then I got interested in the thing,and old Fox was a king to me, and told me I ought to go in for surgery.My own father was a surgeon, you know. Some hands are just naturallybetter for it than others, and his were, and mine are. And attwenty-five I came of age, and found that my money was pretty safelyfixed, and that Dad was kind of counting on my going in with him. Sothere you are! Things just come my way; as I say, I'd have beensatisfied with less, but I've got in the habit of taking my luck forgranted."

　　"And some people, like—well, like my grandmother, for instance, justget in the habit of bad luck," Julia said, with a sigh. "And some, likemyself," she added, brightening, "are born in the bad belt, and pushinto the good! And we're the really lucky ones! I shall never put on afresh frock, or go downtown with you to the theatre, without a specialseparate joy!"

　　Jim said, "You angel!" and as she jumped up—they had been sitting sideby side in the hall at The Alexander—he caught her around the waist,and Julia set a little kiss on the top of his hair.

　　"But you do love me, Ju?" Jim asked.

　　"But I do indeed!" she answered. "Why do you always ask me in thatargumentative sort of way? But me no buts!"

　　"Ah, well, it's because I'm always afraid you'll stop!" Jim pleaded."And I do so want you to begin to love me as much as I do you!"

　　"You must have had thousands of girls!" Julia remarked, idly rumplinghis hair.

　　"I never was engaged before!" he assured her promptly. "Except to thatDelaware girl, as I told you, and after five years she threw me over fora boy named Gregory Biddle, with several millions, but no chin, Julia,and had the gall to ask me to the wedding!"

　　"Jim, and you went?"

　　"Sure I went!" Jim declared.

　　"Oh, Jim!" and Julia gave him another kiss, through a gale of laughter,and ran off to change her gown and put on her hat.

　　It was a Saturday afternoon, and they were going to Sausalito. But firstthey went downtown in the lazy soft spring afternoon, to buy gloves forJulia and a scarf pin for Richie, who was to be Jim's best man, and togo into the big railroad office to get tickets for the use of Dr. andMrs. James Studdiford three days later.

　　"Where are we going?" Julia asked idly, her eyes moving about the brightpigeonholed office, and to the window, and the street beyond. Jim foranswer put his thumb upon the magic word that stared up at her from thelong ticket.

　　"New York!" she whispered; her radiant look flashed suddenly to him."Oh, Jim!" And as they went out he heard a little sigh of utter contentbeside him. "It's too much!" said Julia. "To go to New York—with you!"

　　"Wherever you go, you go with me," he reminded her, with a glance thatbrought the swift colour to her face.

　　Then they went down to the boat. It was the first hot afternoon of theseason; there was a general carrying of coats, and people were using thedeck seats; there was even some grumbling at the heat. But Sausalito wasat its loveliest, and Julia felt almost oppressed by the exquisitepromise of summer that came with the sudden sound of laughter and voicesin lanes that had long been silent, and with the odour of dying grassand drooping buttercups beside the road. The Toland garden was full ofroses, bright in level sunshine, windows and doors were all wide open,and the odours from bowls of flowers drifted about the house. Barbara,lovely in white, came to meet them.

　　"Come in, you poor things, you must be roasted! Jim, you're as red as abeet; go take a bath!" said Barbara. "And Julia, Aunt Sanna is here, andshe says that you're to lie down for not less than an hour. And thereare some packages for you, so come up and lie down on my bed, and we'llopen them!"

　　"Barbara, I am so happy I think my heart will burst!" said Julia, tenminutes later, from Barbara's pillows.

　　"Well, you ought to be, my good woman! Jim Studdiford—when he'ssober—is as good a husband as you're likely to get!" said Barbara,laughing. "Now, look, Julia, here's a jam pot from the Fowlers—FredericFowlers—I call that decent of them! Janey, come in here and put thisjam pot down on Julia's list! And this heavy thing from the Penroses. Ihope to goodness it isn't more carvers!"

　　It was Barbara who said later to Julia, in a confidential undertone:

　　"You know you've got to write personal notes for every bit of thisstuff, Julia, right away? Lots of girls do it on their honeymoons."

　　"Well, I wanted to ask you, Barbara: how do I sign myself to thesepeople I've never seen: 'Yours truly'?"

　　"Oh, heavens, no! 'Sincerely yours' or 'Yours cordially' and make 'emshort. The shorter they are the smarter they are, remember that."

　　"And if I sign J. P. Studdiford, or Julia P. Studdiford—then oughtn't'Mrs. J. N.' go in one corner?"

　　"Oh, no, you poor webfoot! No. Just write a good splashy 'Julia PageStuddiford' all over the page; they'll know who you are fast enough!"

　　"Thanks," said Julia shyly.

　　"You're welcome," Barbara said, smiling. "Are you ready to go down?"

　　After dinner the young Tolands, augmented by several young men, and byJulia and the doctor, all wandered out into the thick darkness,rejoicing in the return of summer. Sausalito's lanes were sweet withroses, lights shone out across the deep fresh green of gardens, andlights moved on the gently moving waters of the bay. A ferryboat, a massof checkered brightness, plowed its way from Alcatraz—far off the citylay like a many-stranded chain of glittering gems upon the water. Juliaand Doctor Studdiford let the others go on without them, and sattogether in the dim curve of the O'Connell seat, and the heartbreakingbeauty of the night wrapped them both in a happiness so deep as to touchthe borderland of pain.

　　"Was there ever such a night?" said little Julia. "Shall we ever be sohappy again?"

　　Jim could not see her clearly, but he saw her bright, soft eyes in thegloom, the shimmer of her loosened hair, the little white-clad figure inthe seat's wide curve, and the crossed slim ankles. He put his arm abouther, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

　　"Don't say that, darling!" said Jim. "This is great, of course. But it'snothing to all the happy months and years that we'll belong to eachother. Nothing but death will ever come between you and me, Julie!"

　　"And I shouldn't be afraid of death," murmured Julia, staring up at thestars. "Strange—strange—strange that we all must go that way someday!" she mused.

　　"Well, please God, we'll do some living first," Jim said, with healthyanticipation. "We'll go to New York, and gad about, and go to Washingtonand Boston, and pick up things here and there for the house, do you see?Then we'll come back here and go to a hotel, and find a house and fix itup!"

　　"That'll be fun," said Julia.

　　"You bet your life it'll be fun! And then, my dear, we'll give somecorking dinners, and my beautiful wife will wear blue velvet, or whitelace, or peachy silk—"

　　"Or all three together," the prospective wife suggested, "with the flagsof all nations in my hair!"

　　"Then next year we'll visit old Gilchrist, at Monterey, and go up toTahoe," continued Jim, unruffled. "Or we could take some place inRoss—"

　　"And then I will give a small and select party for one guest," saidJulia whimsically, "and board him, free, for fifteen or twenty years—"

　　"Julia, you little duck!" Jim bent his head over her in the starlight,and felt her soft hair brush his face, and caught the glint of herlaughing eyes close to his own, and the vague delicious little perfumeof youth and beauty and radiant health that hung about her. "Do you knowthat you are as cunning as a sassy kid?" he demanded. "Now, kiss me onceand for all, and no nonsense about it, for I can hear the others comingback!"

　　Two days later they were married, very quietly, in the little Church ofSaint Charles Borromeo, where Julia's father and mother had been marrieda quarter of a century ago. They had "taken advantage," as Julia said,of her old grandfather's death, and announced that because the bride'sfamily was in mourning the ceremony would be a very quiet one. Even thepress was not notified; the Tolands filled two pews, and two more werefilled by Julia's mother, her grandmother, and cousins. Kennedy ScottMarbury and her husband were there, and sturdy two-year-old ScottMarbury, who was much interested in this extraordinary edifice andimpressive proceeding, but there were no other witnesses. Julia wore adark-blue gown, and a wide black hat whose lacy brim cast a mostbecoming shadow over her lovely, serious face. She and Miss Toland drovefrom the settlement house, and stopped to pick up Mrs. Page, who wasawed by Julia's dignity, and a little resentful of the way in whichothers had usurped her place with her daughter. However, Emeline hadvery wisely decided to make the best of the situation, and treated MissToland with stiff politeness. Julia was in a smiling dream, out of whichshe roused herself, at intervals, for only a gentle, absent-minded "Yes"or "No."

　　"I tried to persuade her to be married at the Cathedral, by His Grace,"said Miss Toland to Mrs. Page. "But she wanted it this way!"

　　"Well, I'm sure she feels you've done too much for her as it is,"Emeline said mincingly. "Now she must turn around and return some ofit!"

　　To this Miss Toland made no answer except an outraged snort, and acloser pressure of her fine, bony hand upon Julia's warm little fingers.They presently reached the church, and Julia was in Barbara's hands.

　　"You look lovely, darling, and your hat is a dream!" said Barbara, wholooked very handsome herself, in her brown suit and flower-trimmed hat."We go upstairs, I think. Jim's here, nervous as a fish. You'rewonderful—as calm! I'd simply be in spasms. Ted was awful; you'd thinkshe had been married every day, but Robert—his collar was wilted!"

　　They had reached the upper church now, and Miss Toland and Mrs. Pagefollowed the girls down the long aisle to the altar. Julia saw herlittle old grandmother, in an outrageous flowered bonnet, and Evelyn whowas a most successful modiste now, and Marguerite, looking flushed andexcited, with her fat, apple-faced young husband, and three lumpy littlechildren. Also her Aunt May was there, and some young people: Muriel,who was what Evelyn had been at fifteen, and a toothless nine-year-oldRegina, in pink, and some boys. On the other side were the elegantTolands, the dear old doctor in an aisle seat, with his hands, holdinghis eye-glasses and his handkerchief, fallen on either knee; Ted lovelyin blue, Constance and Jane with Ned and Mrs. Ned, frankly staring.

　　As Julia came down the aisle, with a sudden nervous jump of her heart,she saw Jim and Richie, who was limping badly, but without his crutch,come toward her. The old priest came down the altar steps at the sametime. She and Jim listened respectfully to a short address withouthearing a word of it, and found themselves saying the familiar wordswithout in the least sensing them. Julia battled through the prayer witha vague idea that she was losing a valuable opportunity to invoke theblessing of God, but unable to think of anything but the fact that thebride usually walked out of church on the groom's arm, and that St.Charles's aisle was long and rather dismal in the waning afternoonlight.

　　"Here, darling, in the vestry!" Jim was whispering, smiling his dear,easy, reassuring smile as he guided her to the nearby door. And in asecond they were all about her, her first kiss on the wet cheek of AuntSanna, the second to her mother—"Evelyn, you were a darling to come wayacross the city, and Marguerite, you were a darling to bring thoseprecious angels"—and then the old doctor's kiss, and Richie's kiss, anda pressure from his big bony fingers. Julia half knelt to embrace littleScott Marbury. "He's beautiful, Kennedy; no wonder you're proud!" Andshe tore her beautiful bunch of roses apart, that each girl might have afew.

　　"I've got to get her to the train!" Jim protested presently, tryingpatiently to disengage his wife's hands, eyes, and attention. "Julia!Julia Studdiford!"

　　"Yes, I know!" Julia laughed, and was snatched away, half laughing andhalf in tears, and hurried down to the side street, where a carriage waswaiting. And here there was one more delay: Chester Cox, a thinshambling figure, came forward from a shadowy doorway, and rathertimidly held out his hand.

　　"I couldn't get away until jest now," said Chester. "But of course Iwish you luck, Julia!"

　　"Why, it's my uncle!" Julia said, cordially clasping his hand. "Mr.Cox—Doctor Studdiford. I'm so glad you came, Chess!"

　　"Glad to know you, Mr. Cox," Jim said heartily.

　　"And I brought you a little present; it ain't much, but maybe you canuse it!" mumbled Chester, terribly embarrassed, and with a nervous laughhanding Julia a rather large package somewhat flimsily wrapped and tied.

　　"Oh, thank you!" Julia said gratefully. And before she got in thecarriage she put her hand on Chester's arm, and raised her fresh,exquisite little face for a kiss.

　　"Now, about this—" Doctor Studdiford began delicately, glancing atChester's gift, which Julia had given him to hold. "I wonder if itwouldn't be wise to ask your uncle to send this to my mother's until weget back, Ju. You see, dear—"

　　"Oh, no-no!" Julia said eagerly, leaning out of the carriage, and takingthe package again. She sent Chester a last bright smile, as Jim jumpedin and slammed the door, but it was an April face that she turned asecond later to her husband.

　　"They're all so good to me, and it just breaks my heart!" she said.

　　"At last—it's all over—and you belong to me!" exulted Jim. "I havebeen longing and longing for this, just to be alone with you, and haveyou to myself. Are you tired, sweetheart?"

　　"No-o. Just a little—perhaps."

　　"But you do love me?"

　　"Oh, Jim—you idiot!" Julia slipped her hand into his, as he put one armabout her, and rested against his shoulder. "When I think that I willoften ride in carriages," she mused, half smiling, "and that, besidesbeing my Jim, you are a rich man, it makes me feel as if I wereCinderella!"

　　"You shall have your own carriage if you want it, Pussy!" he smiled.

　　"Oh, don't—don't give me anything more," begged Julia, "or a clocksomewhere will strike twelve, and I'll wake up in The Alexander, withthe Girls' Club rehearsing a play!"

　　When she had examined every inch of her Pullman drawing-room, andcommented upon one hundred of its surprising conveniences, and when hersmart little travelling case, the groom's gift, had been partlyunpacked, and when her blue eyes had refreshed themselves with a longlook at the rolling miles of lovely San Mateo hills, then young Mrs.Studdiford looked at her Uncle Chester's wedding gift. She found a brushand comb and mirror in pink celluloid, with roses painted on them,locked with little brass hasps into a case lined with yellow silk.

　　"Look, Jim!" said Julia pitifully, not knowing whether to laugh or tocry.

　　"Gosh!" said the doctor thoughtfully, looking over the coat he wasneatly arranging on a hanger. "I've often wondered who buys thosethings!"

　　"I'll give it to the porter," Julia decided. "He may like it. Dear oldChess!" And Jim grinned indulgently a few minutes later at the pictureof his beautiful little wife enslaving the old coloured porter, andgravely discussing with him the advantages and disadvantages of hiswork.

　　"You know, we could have our meals in here, Ju," Jim suggested. "Claudehere"—all porters were "Claude" to Jim—"would take care of us,wouldn't you, Claude?"

　　"Dat I would!" said Claude with husky fervour. But Julia's face fell.

　　"Oh, Jim! But it would be such fun to go out to the dining-car!" shepleaded.

　　Jim shouted. "All right, you baby!" he said. "You see, my wife's only alittle girl," he explained. "She's—are you eight or nine, Julia?"

　　"She sho' don't look more'n dat," Claude gallantly assured them, as hedeparted.

　　"I'll be twenty-four on my next birthday," Julia said thoughtfully, afew moments later.

　　"Well, at that, you may live three or four years more!" Jim consoledher. "Do you know what time it is, Loveliness? It's twenty minutes pastsix. We've been married exactly two hours and twenty minutes. How do youlike it?"

　　"I love it!" said Julia boldly. "Do I have to change my dress fordinner?"

　　"You do not."

　　"But I ought to fix my hair, it's all mashed!" Julia did wonders to itwith one of the ivory-backed brushes that had come with the newtravelling case, fluffing the thick braids and tucking the loose goldenstrands about her temples trimly into place. Then she rubbed her facewith a towel, and jumped up to straighten her belt, and run aninvestigating finger about the embroidered "turn-down" collar thatfinished her blue silk blouse. Finally she handed Jim her newwhisk-broom with a capable air, and presented straight little shouldersto be brushed.

　　Jim turned her round and round, whisking and straightening, andoccasionally kissing the tip of a pink ear, or the straight white linewhere her hair parted.

　　"Here, you can't keep that up all night!" Julia suddenly protested,grabbing the brush. "I'll do you!" But Jim stopped the performance bysuddenly imprisoning girl and whiskbroom in his arms.

　　"Do you know I think we are going to have great fun!" said he. "You'resuch a good little sport, Ju! No nerves and no nonsense about you! It'ssuch fun to do things with a person who isn't eternally fussing aboutheat and cold, and whether she ought to wear her gloves into thedining-car, and whether any one will guess that she's just married!"

　　"Oh, I have my nervous moments," Julia confessed, her eyes lookinghonestly up into his. "It seems awfully strange and queer, rushingfarther and farther away from home, alone with you!" Her voice sank alittle; she put up her arms and locked them about his neck. "I have tokeep reminding myself that you are just you, Jim," she said bravely,"who gave me my Browning, and took me to tea at the Pheasant—and thenit all seems right again! And then—such lots of nice people have gotmarried, and gone away on honeymoons," she ended, argumentatively.

　　The laughter had gone from Jim's eyes; a look almost shy, almostashamed, had taken its place. He kept her as she was for a moment, thengave her a serious kiss, and they went laughing through the rocking carsto eat their first dinner together as man and wife. And Jim watched heras she radiantly settled herself at table, and watched the frown ofchildish gravity with which she studied her menu, with some new andtender emotion stirring at his heart. Life had greater joys in it thanhe had ever dreamed, and greater potentialities for sorrow, too. Whatwas bright in life was altogether more gloriously bright, and what wasdark seemed to touch him more closely; he felt the sorrow of age in thetrembling old man at the table across the aisle, the pathos of youth inthe two young travelling salesmen who chattered so self-confidently overtheir meal.

　　Several weeks later young Mrs. Studdiford wrote to Barbara that New Yorkwas "a captured dream." "I seem to belong to it," wrote Julia, "and itseems to belong to me! I can't tell you how it satisfies me; it is goodjust to look down from my window at Fifth Avenue, every morning, and sayto myself, 'I'm still in New York!' For the first two weeks Jim and Idid everything alone, like two children: the new Hippodrome, and ConeyIsland, and the Liberty Statue, and the Bronx Zoo. I never had such agood time! We went to the theatres, and the museums, and had breakfastat the Casino, and lived on top of the green 'busses! But now Jim haslet some of his old college friends know we are here, and we arespinning like tops. One is an artist, and has the most fascinatingstudio I ever saw, down on Washington Square, and another is an editor,and gave us a tea in his rooms, overlooking Stuyvesant Square, andBarbara, everybody there was a celebrity (except us) and all so sweetand friendly—it was a hot spring day, and the trees in the square wereall such a fresh, bright green.

　　"They make a great fuss about the spring here, and you can hardly blamethem. The whole city turns itself inside out; people simply stream tothe parks, and the streets swarm with children. Some of the poorer womengo bareheaded or with shawls, even in the cars—did you ever see abareheaded woman in a car at home? But they are all much nearer thepeasant here. And after clean San Francisco, you wouldn't believe howdirty this place is; all the smaller stores have shops in the basements,and enough dirt and old rags and wet paper lying around to send DoctorBlue into a convulsion! And they use pennies here, which seems so petty,and paper dollars instead of silver, which I hate. And you say 'L' or'sub' for the trains, and always 'surface cars' for the regularcars—it's all so different and so interesting.

　　"Tell Richie Jim is going to assist the great Doctor Cassell in somedemonstrations of bone transplanting, at Bellevue, next week—oh, andBarbara, did I write Aunt Sanna that we met the President! My dear, wedid. We were at the theatre with the Cassells, and saw him in a box, andDoctor Cassell, the old darling, knows him, and went to the President'sbox to ask if we might be brought in and presented, and, my dear, he gotup and came back with Doctor Cassell to our box, and was simply sweet,and asked me if I wasn't from the South, and I nearly said, 'Yes, southof Market Street,' but refrained in time. I had on the new apricotcrepe, and a black hat, and felt very Lily-like-a-princess, as Janesays.

　　"But we're both getting homesick; it will seem good to see the old ferrybuilding again—and Sausalito, and all of you."

　　Early in July they did start homeward, but by so circuitous a route, andwith such prolonged stops at the famous hotels of Canada, that it was ona September afternoon that they found themselves taking the Tolandhousehold by storm. And Julia thought no experience in her travels sosweet as this one: to be received into the heart of the family, and tosettle down to a review of the past five months. Richie was so brotherlyand kind, the girls so admiring of her furs and her diamonds, so full ofgay chatter, the old doctor so gallant and so affectionate! Mrs. Tolandchirped and twittered like the happy mother of a cageful of canaries;and Julia, when they gathered about the fire after dinner, took a lowstool next to Miss Toland's chair and rested a shoulder, little-girlfashion, against the older woman's knee.

　　"It was simply a tour of triumph for Ju," said Doctor Jim, packing hispipe at the fireplace, with satisfied eyes on his wife. "She has friendsin the Ghetto and friends in the White House. We went down to theDuponts', on Long Island, and Dupont said she—"

　　"Oh, please, Jim!" Julia said seriously.

　　"Dupont said she was one of the most interesting women he ever talkedto," Jim continued inexorably, "and John Mandrake wanted to paint her!"

　　"Tell me the news!" begged Julia. "How's The Alexander, Aunt Sanna—howis Miss Striker turning out?"

　　"She's turned out," said Miss Toland grimly, her knitting needlesflashing steadily. "She came to me with her charts and rules, and oh,she couldn't lie in bed after half-past six in the morning, and shecouldn't put off the sewing class, and she would like to ask me not toeat my breakfast after nine o'clock! A girl who never cared what sheate—sardines and tea!—and she wouldn't come in with me to dinner atthe Colonial because she was afraid they used coal tar andformaldehyde—ha! Finally she asked me if I wouldn't please keep theexpenditures of the house and my own expenditures separate, and that wasthe end!"

　　Jim's great laugh burst out, and Julia dimpled as she asked demurely:

　　"What on earth did you say?"

　　"Say? I asked her if she knew I built The Alexander, and sent herpacking! And now"—Miss Toland rubbed her nose with the gesture Juliaknew so well—"now Miss Pierce is temporarily in charge, but she won'tstay there nights, so the clubs are given up," she observeddiscontentedly.

　　"And what's the news from Sally?" Julia pursued.

　　"Just the loveliest in the world," Mrs. Toland said. "Keith is workinglike a little Trojan; and Sally sent us a perfectly charming descriptionof the pension, and their walks—"

　　"Yes, and how she couldn't go out because she hadn't shoes," Jane added,half in malice, half in fun. "Don't look so shocked, Mother dear, youknow it's true. And the landlady cheating them out of a whole week'sboard—"

　　"Gracious me!" said Mrs. Toland, in a low undertone full of annoyance."Did any one ever hear such nonsense! All that is past history now,Janey," she reminded her young daughter, in her usual hopeful voice."Dad sent a cheque, like the dear, helpful daddy he is, and noweverything's lovely again!"

　　Julia did not ask for Ted until she saw Barbara alone for a moment thenext day. It was about ten o'clock on a matchless autumn morning, andJulia, stepping from her bedroom's French window to the wide sunny porchthat ran the width of the house, saw Barbara some forty feet awaysitting just outside her own window, with a mass of hair spread to thesun.

　　Julia joined her, dragged out a low, light chair from Barbara's room,and settled herself for a gossip.

　　"Had breakfast?" Barbara smiled. "Jim downstairs?"

　　"Oh, hours ago!" Julia said to the first question, and to the second,with the young wife's conscious blush, "Jim's dressing. He's the mostimpossible person to get started in the morning!"

　　Barbara did not blush but she felt a little tug at her heart.

　　"Come," she said, "I thought Jim had no faults?"

　　"Well, he hasn't," Julia laughed. And then, a little confused by her ownfervent tone, she changed the subject, and asked about Ted.

　　"Why, Ted's happy, and rich, and simply adored by Bob Carleton," Barbarasummarized briefly, in a rather dry voice, "but Mother and Dad neverwill get over it, and I suppose Ted herself doesn't like the idea ofthat other wife—she lives at The Palace, and she's got a seven-year-oldgirl! It's done, you know, Julie, and of course Ted's acceptedeverywhere; she'll go to the Brownings' this year, and Mrs. Morton hasasked her to receive with her at some sort of dinner reception nextmonth, you'll meet her everywhere. But I do think it's terribly hard onMother and Dad!"

　　"But how could she, that great big black creature?"

　　"Oh, she loves him fast enough! It was perfectly legal, of course. Ithink Dad was at the wedding, and I think Richie was, but we girls neverknew anything until it was all over. Mother simply announced to us onenight that Ted was married, and that there was to be no open break, butthat she and Dad were just about sick! I never saw Mother give way so!She said—and it's true—that if ever there was a mother who deservedher children's confidence, and so on! All the newspapers blazed aboutit—Ted's picture, Bob's picture—and, as I say, society welcomed herwith open arms. They've got a gorgeous suite at the St. Francis, and Tedreally looks stunning, and acts as if she'd done something very smart.Con says that when she called, it reminded her of the second act of abad play. Ted came here with Bob, one Saturday afternoon, but Motherhasn't been near her!"

　　"It seems too bad," Julia said thoughtfully, "when your father andmother are always so sweet!"

　　"There must be some reason for it," Barbara observed, "I suppose we wereall spoiled as kids, with our dancing schools and our dresses fromParis, and so now when we want things we oughtn't have, we just take'em, from habit! I remember a governess once, a nice enough littleDanish woman, but Ned and I got together and decided we wouldn't standher, and Mother let her go. It seems funny now. Mother used to say thatnever in her life did she allow her children to want anything she couldgive them; but I'm not at all sure that's a very wise ideal!"

　　"Nor I," said Julia earnestly. Barbara had parted and brushed her darkhair now, and as she gathered it back, the ruthless morning sunlightshowed lines on her pretty face and faint circles about her eyes.

　　"Because life gets in and gives you whacks," Barbara presently pursued,"you're going to want a lot of things you can't have before you getthrough, and it only makes it harder! Sally's paying for her jump in thedark, poor old Ned is condemned to Yolo City and Eva for the rest of hislife, and somehow Ted's the saddest of all—so confident and noisy andrich, boasting about Bob's affection, buying everything she sees—and soyoung, somehow! As for me," said Barbara, "my only consolation is thatnearly every family has one of me, and some have more—a nice-looking,well-liked, well-dressed young woman, who has cost her parents anenormous amount of money, to get—nowhere!"

　　"Why, Lady Babbie!" Julie protested. "It's not like you to talk so!"

　　Barbara patted the hand that had been laid upon her knee, and laughed.

　　"And the moral of that is, Ju," she said, "if you have children, don'tspoil them! You've had horribly hard times, but they've given you somesense. As for Jim, he's an exception. It's a miracle he wasn'truined—but he wasn't!" And she gathered up her towels and brushes to goback into her room. "But I needn't tell you that, Julie!" said she.

　　"Ah, well, Jim!" Julia conceded, smiling.

　　Jim had no faults, of course. Yet the five-months wife sighedunconsciously as she went back to her room. Jim had qualities that hadnow and then caused a faint little cloud to drift across Julia's life,but that sheer loyalty had kept her from defining, even in her inmostheart. Now this talk with Barbara had suddenly seemed to make themclear. Jim was—spoiled was too harsh a word. But Jim wanted his ownway, in little things and big—all the time. The world just now for Jimheld only Julia. What she wanted he wanted, and, at any cost, he wouldhave. If her gown was not right for the special occasion, she shouldhave a new gown; if the motor car was out of order, telephone foranother; if the steward assured them that there was not another table inthe dining-room—tip him, tip everybody, make a scene, but see that the"Reserved" card comes off somebody's table, and that the Studdifords areseated there in triumph.

　　At first Julia had only laughed at her lord's masterful progress. It wasvery funny to her to see how quickly his money and his determination wonhim his way. A great deal of money was wasted, of course, but then, thiswas their honeymoon, and some day they would settle down and spendrationally. Jim, like all rich men, had an absolute faith in the powerof gold. The hall maid must come in and hook Mrs. Studdiford's gown; oh,and would she be here at, say, one o'clock, when Mrs. Studdiford camehome? She went off at twelve, eh? Well, what was it worth to her to stayon to-night, until one? Good. And by the way, Mrs. Studdiford had torn alace gown and wanted it to-morrow; could the maid mend it and press it?She didn't think so? Well, come, there must be somebody who would rushit through for Mrs. Studdiford? Ah, that was fine, thank you very much,that would do very nicely. Or perhaps it was a question of theatretickets, and Jim would stop his taxicab on Broadway at the theatre'sdoor. Here, boy! Boy, come here! Go up and ask him what his best forto-night are? There's a line of people waiting, eh?—well, go up and asksome fellow at the top of the line what it's worth to him to get twoseats for me. Oh, fine. Much obliged to you, sir. Thank you. Andhere—boy!

　　"Do you think the entire world circles about your convenience, Jim?"Julia asked amusedly one day, after some such episode. "Sure," heanswered, grinning.

　　"Jim, you don't think you can go through life walking over people thisway?"

　　"Why not, my good lady?"

　　"Well," said Julia gravely, "some day you may find you want somethingyou can't buy!"

　　"There ain't no such animal," Jim assured her cheerfully.

　　Only a trifling cloud, after all, Julia assured herself hardily. Butthere was a constant little sensation of uneasiness in her heart. Shetried to convince herself that the sweetness of his nature had not beenundermined by this ability to indulge himself however fast his fanciesshifted; she reasoned that because so many good things were his, he neednot necessarily hold them in light esteem. Yet the thought persistedthat he knew neither his own mind nor his own heart; there had been nodiscipline there, no hard-won battles—there were no reserves.

　　"I call that simply borrowing trouble!" said Kennedy Scott Marburyhealthily, one day when she and the tiny Scott were lunching with Juliaat the hotel. Kennedy was close to her second confinement, and theladies had lunched in Julia's handsome sitting-room. "Lord, Julie dear!It seems sometimes as if you have to have something in this world,"Kennedy went on cheerfully; "either actual trouble or mental worries!Anthony and I were talking finances half last night: we decided that wecan't move to a larger house, just now, and so on—and we both said whatwould it be like to be free from money worries for ten minutes—"

　　"But, Ken, don't you see how necessary you are to each other!" saidJulia, kneeling before the chair in which her fat godson was seated, anddisplaying a number of gold chains and bracelets for his amusement. "Youhave to take a turn at everything—cooking and sewing and caring for oldSweetum here—Anthony couldn't get on without you!"

　　"And I suppose you think Doctor Studdiford could find twenty wives aspretty and clever and charming as you are, Ju?"

　　"Fifty!" Julia answered.

　　"Well, now, that just shows what a little idiot you are!" Mrs. Marburyscolded. "Not but what most women feel that way sooner or later," sheadded, less severely. "I remember that phase very well, myself! But thething for you to do, Julie, is to remember that you're exactly the samewoman he fell in love with, d'you see? Just mind your own affairs, andbe happy and busy, and try not to fancy things!"

　　"What a sensible old thing you are, Ken!" said Julia gratefully. And asKennedy came over to stand near her, Julia gave her a little rub withher head, like an affectionate pony. "I think it's partly this hotelthat's demoralizing me," Julia went on, a little shamed. "I feel souseless—getting up, eating, dressing, idling about, and going to bedagain. Jim has his work, and I'll be glad when I have mine again!"