"You baby," he said. "Sometimes I think I have been selfish, tying you down to a cross old husband before you've had your good times--" "Don't want any good times without you!" I said, obstinately. "All right," said he. "We'll have them together. I'll renew my youth!" "Don't be absurd! You're a mere infant!" "Second childhood," he said, "you've been an elixir of youth to me; of life itself." "You do say such nice things," I sighed. "That comes of being a poet!" "Poet be hanged!" said Bill. "It comes of being in love--with--you--with you--" That was a very nice drive. After all, the hansom has advantages. One can sit awfully close, and hold hands under the shiny, wooden apron. Wednesday Mother came. I called her that right off. She was the dearest thing, with such curly red hair and eyes the color of Bill's, only a different shape. She was littler than I even, with hands and feet that were wholly ridiculous. Father was immediately enchanted with her. The four of us had a long talk, all one soft Spring day, interrupted by Uncle John, and by getting Peter and Sarah safely off to Green Hill. And then, while I was resting, she had her talk with her son, and came to me later, after I had gone to bed. She curled up beside me in a wonderful blue negligée which made her look like a girl. And we talked--and talked. "You're the nicest thing that Bill has given me," I said, happily, before she left, "and Bill's the nicest thing you could give me. You don't feel," I begged, "that I am taking him away from you--?" "I love you," she answered, the laughter gone from her eyes, and her face very sweet to see, "for yourself--for Bill too, but most of all for yourself. I have wanted this since he first wrote me about you. I have prayed for it every night. You were so exactly the sort of a girl I wanted my boy to marry--" "But," I said, "I was just a little, bed-ridden, useless creature then--" "I knew that Bill would cure you," said Mother. "He always gets what he wants--" "Doesn't he though?" I interrupted, proudly. "And he wanted you!" "I love him so," I whispered against the soft lace at her breast. She put her arms very closely around me. I don't know why I cried. And then, she talked to me. Just as my own Mother would have done--very gravely and tenderly for a long half-hour. When she left my room, I lay awake a long time, thinking about her and Bill, wondering if I could ever be to him all that she had said I would be. I was happy, a little frightened, and so grateful--so grateful. CHAPTER XXII