"You ought to buy a little old used car like this some time to carry in your tool-box." They were still laughing when we drove away. Not a word did Mrs. Todd utter on the homeward journey; but in the privacy of our humble barn-- "Oh!" she cried. "I could _die_! Why did you have to say that to Mr. Burton?" "Amanda!" She subsided, but she had not surrendered. "You didn't tell me you had an engagement with him. What----" Todd laughed. "I was chosen this week, my dear, as a grievance committee of one, representing the teaching staff at the college, to put a few cold facts into John Quincy Burton's ear." "You?" "Precisely, my dear. I was the only man in the faculty who seemed to have the--the self-confidence necessary. And I made Burton see the point. I have his promise that the college trustees will campaign the state this summer for a half-million-dollar emergency fund, a good slice of which will go toward salary increases." "Well! I must say----" She did not say it. Silently she left us. He lingered a while in the barn. He opened my hood, for I was quite warm from the towing job. He examined a new cut in one of my tires and loosened my hand-brake a notch. He couldn't seem to find enough to do for me. From the house came a hail. I am not sure that he did not hold his breath as he listened. "James, dear!" again. "Hello!" he answered. "James, dear, won't you bring your automobile pliers, please, and see if you can open this jar of marmalade?" My little man went in whistling. THE THING THEY LOVED BY MARICE RUTLEDGE From _The Century Magazine_ "_They had vowed to live only for one another. The theme of their love was sublime enough, but the instruments were fallible. Human beings can rarely sustain a lofty note beyond the measure of a supreme moment_." When she told her husband that David Cannon had arranged for her a series of recitals in South America, she looked to him for swift response. She was confident that anything touching on her professional life would kindle his eye and warm his voice. It was, in fact, that professional life as she interpreted it with the mind of an artist, the heart of a child, which had first drawn him to her; he had often admitted as much. During one year of rare comradeship he had never failed in his consideration for her work. He would know, she felt sure, that to go on a concert tour with David Cannon, to sing David Cannon's songs under such conditions, presented good fortune in more than one way. He would rejoice accordingly.