"You don't know grandma!" Milly replied oracularly, feeling that any attempt to explain would be useless.--And, it may be added, Milly did not know her grandmother, either. She could no more appreciate the steady, stern self-denial that had gone to the gathering of that three thousand dollars than she could the nature of a person who would nag for twenty years the girl she meant to endow. That also belonged among the puritan traits, as well as a sneaking admiration for the handsome, self-willed, extravagant granddaughter. "She ought to have left it to you," Milly said to her father. "I guess she thought she had done enough for me already," Horatio said lightly. "She knew about Josephine, too--expect she thought the green parlor furniture would be the right thing for us. Josephine's likely to appreciate that more'n you, Milly!" Milly was amply content with this division. * * * * * Husband and wife lay awake for long hours that night, in a flutter of excitement, discussing Milly's marvellous windfall. "Just think," Milly cried, snuggling very close to her husband. "We'll go abroad as soon as we can pack up, shan't we? And you will paint! And all thanks to poor old grandma." "It _is_ luck," the artist agreed thankfully. "And I brought it to you--poor little me, without a _sou_!... Three thousand ought to last a long time." (Milly was invariably optimistic about the expansibility of money.) "It'll be a good starter, anyway," her husband agreed, "and before it's gone I ought to be making good." So that night two very happy married people went to sleep in each other's arms to dream of a wonderful future. III ON BOARD SHIP At last Milly was tucked up in a steamer chair beside her artist husband, on board the old _Augusta Victoria_, bound for Europe, that exhaustless haven of romance where with or without an excuse all good Americans betake themselves when they can.... The last few weeks had been exciting ones. It had begun with Horatio's wedding to the homely bookkeeper, which Milly dutifully attended with her husband. In spite of the very handsome rug that they had sent the couple, Mrs. Horatio preserved a cold demeanor towards her husband's daughter, as if she still suspected the young woman of designs upon Horatio and had married him for the sole purpose of protecting him for the future from this rapacious creature. Milly, quickly perceiving the situation, mischievously redoubled her demonstration over poor Horatio, who was visibly torn between his loyalties. "Lord, what a sour face she has!" Milly commented to her husband, when they had left the bride and groom. "Poor old Dad, I hope she'll let him smoke!... Why do you suppose he married her?" "To have some one to work for," Bragdon, who was not without a sense of humor, suggested. "He might at least have found somebody better looking." "She looks capable, at any rate."