That was the one thing denied her. But George did his best to console her, and Bess believed the world did not hold his equal. It seemed sometimes that she was dreaming when her face was pressed close to his, and he kissed her and called her little wife. She dreaded to wake up and find it all unreal. George was sure that had he chosen from the Belgravian conservatories of rare English girlhood he could not have improved upon his sweet wildflower of the Surrey hills. Bess was not only beautiful and amiable; she was the cleverest little woman in the world. It was a treat to watch her sew a button on. She no sooner took it between her rosy fingers and tickled it gently with the needle than, hey, presto! there it was as firm as a rock. And then her cooking. I should like to know what beautiful young lady of society could have come near Bess in the matter of pie-crust. No duchess in the land could ever hope to equal her haricot mutton; and I’m quite sure that the united efforts of the whole of the upper ten thousand would have failed to make a shilling go as far as Bess could make sixpence go. One proof of her skill absolutely astonished her husband, he saw a very beautiful bonnet in a shop in Regent’s Street, and he told Bess he should like to buy it for her. ‘You dear old goose,’ said his wife; ‘why, you’d have to pay three guineas for it!’ George whistled. He thought that was a great deal of money for a small feather, a bunch of roses, and a plain straw. Next morning Bess said to him at breakfast, ‘George, you-wanted to make me a present of a three-guinea bonnet yesterday; give me ten shillings to spend instead.’ There was half a sovereign in Bess’s plump little hand directly. That evening they arranged to go for a stroll to look at the shops. Bess went to put on her bonnet, and when she camc into-the parlour George backed into the fireplace with astonishment. Bess had on the beautiful three-guinea bonnet! ‘Why, how ever did you get it, my dear?’ he said. ‘It’s-awfully extravagant!’ Bess gave a merry little laugh. ‘How much do you think it cost?’ she said. ‘Why, three guineas, of course,’ said George. ‘Nonsense, you dear old stupid! It cost ten shillings!’ ‘Did they let you have it for that after all?’ ‘_They_ let me have it? No. I made it myself, and the ten shillings you gave me paid for all the materials.’ ‘Wonderful!’ said George. And all that evening as they walked about he felt inclined to stop the Ladies and gentlemen in the street and exclaim, ‘I say, look at this bonnet. Did you ever see anything like it? My wife made it, and it only cost ten shillings. Isn’t she clever?’ George’s respect for his wife increased every day as he saw the marvels her tiny fingers accomplished. He wished Smith & Co. could see her. Once he did go so far as to take Smith & Co. an apple turnover which his wife had made; but it looked so nice that, Smith & Co. (per Mr. Brooks, the manager) not arriving till late, George ate it himself.