"I don't care!" I said, stoutly. "It was far more interesting than seeing the prince. This, you must remember, was our _first_ ice-box. The other one was built into the apartment, and we didn't own it." "I do wish Bee could hear you!" jeered Jimmie. "Gee, but you will be a trial to Bee." "I always have been," I said. "She got mad at me just before I was married about a thing as foolish as anything _I_ ever heard of. I had calls to pay, and I asked Bee to go with me. She said she'd go if I'd get a carriage, so I said I would, and told her to order it. But it seems that all the good ones were engaged for a funeral, and they sent us a one-horse brougham with the driver not in livery. We didn't notice it until we opened the front door. Then Bee sailed in. 'Why are you not in livery?' she demanded. 'I shall certainly report you to Mr. Overman. He ought to be ashamed to send out a driver without a livery!' 'If you please, ma'am,' said the man, 'I'm Mr. Overman, and rather than disappoint you ladies, as all my men are out, I thought I'd drive you myself.' Well, that was too much for even Bee. So she thanked him, and in we got. The first house we went to was that of a haughty society dame of whose opinion Bee stood much in awe. Personally, I thought her an illiterate old bore. She was newly rich, and laid great emphasis upon such things as maids' caps, while tucking her own napkin under her chin at dinner. She followed us to the door in an excess of cordiality which amused me, considering everything, and there, to our horror, we saw poor old Overman half-way under the horse, examining one of its hoofs! Poor Bee! I gave one look at her face and giggled. That was enough. She was so enraged that she wouldn't pay another call. She took me straight home as if I were a bad child, and the next day I paid my calls alone." "And yet," said Jimmie, musingly, "can you or any of us ever forget the night that Bee did the skirt dance in Tyrol?" "Dear Bee!" said Mrs. Jimmie, softly. "How charming she is!" "Yet she wouldn't approve of your going to Clovertown," said Jimmie. "She hates the bucolic. Idyls and pastorals are not in it with our rue de la Paix Bee. I'll bet she will never come to see you at Peach Orchard." "Let us hope for the best," said Aubrey. "It is dangerous to prophesy." "We're going to keep a cow, Jimmie!" I said, rapturously. "Well, don't gurgle about it. You act as if keeping a cow put the stamp of the Four Hundred on you. Did Mary say you might?" "Mary has given her consent," said Aubrey. "But I'm wondering how that old woman will behave with other servants. Of course she was all right while there was no one else and she was boss of the ranch, but we must have two or three now at Peach Orchard, and she is so jealous, I wonder if she will let us live with her!"