"After all, Babe, I think you lack the
real artist's devotion to your work. Even mumps ought to be beautiful in
your eyes and meningitis a delight to your soul. The day will come that
you will give up medicine and take a course in plain cooking, now mark
my words."
"Thanks; but I prefer tibias to tomatoes," Phebe responded. "When I am
the great Dr. McAlister, you will change your tune."
"There will never be but one great Dr. McAlister," Theodora answered
loyally. "No, mother, I must not stay to lunch, not even if Babe would
grill her tibia for me. Billy gets very grumpy, if I leave him alone at
his meals. Good-bye, Babe. Don't let anything happen to your grooves."
She went away with a laugh on her lips; but the laugh vanished, as she
went up to her writing-room once more and paused for a moment before her
closed desk. Then her face cleared, as she hurriedly put herself into
Billy's favorite gown and ran down the stairs to meet him in the hall.
The woes of book-making and the worries of her family never clouded
Theodora's welcome to her husband.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Teddy, did you ever hear me say anything about Gertrude Keith?"
"Why--yes. Wasn't she the cousin who married Harry Everard?"
"Your memory does you credit." Mr. Farrington's eyes belied his
bantering tone.
"What about her?"
"Nothing about her.
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