As the weeks succeeded each other after the wedding, however, no acquaintance of the couple could wonder whether the gainer or the giver was the happier. Fred improved rapidly, as the school-boy improves; but Esther’s graces were already of mature growth, and rejoiced in their opportunity for development. Though she could not have explained how it happened, she could not but notice that maidens regarded her wonderingly, wives contemplated her wistfully, frowns departed and smiles appeared when she approached people who were usually considered prosaic. Yet shadows sometimes stole over her face, when she looked at certain of her old acquaintances, and the cause thereof soon took a development which was anything but pleasing to her husband. “Fred,” said Esther one evening, “it makes me real unhappy sometimes to think of the good wives there are who are not as happy as I am. I think of Mrs. Moshier and Mrs. Crayme, and the only reason that I can see is, their husbands drink.” “I guess you’re right, Ettie,” said Fred. “They didn’t begin their domestic tyranny in advance, as _you_ did--bless you for it.” “But why _don’t_ their husbands stop?” asked Esther, too deeply interested in her subject to notice her husband’s compliment. “They must see what they’re doing, and how cruel it all is.” “They’re too far gone to stop; I suppose that’s the reason,” said Fred. “It hasn’t been easy work for _me_ to keep my promise, Ettie, and I’m a young man; Moshier and Crayme are middle-aged men, and liquor is simply necessary to them.” “That dreadful old Bunley wasn’t too old to reform, it seems,” said Esther. “Fred, I believe one reason is that no one has asked them to stop. See how good Harry Wainright has been since he found that so many people were interested in him that day!” “Ye----es,” drawled Fred, evidently with a suspicion of what was coming, and trying to change the subject by suddenly burying himself in his memorandum book. But this ruse did not succeed, for Esther crossed the room to where Fred sat, placed her hands on his shoulders, and a kiss on his forehead, and exclaimed, “Fred, _you’re_ the proper person to reform those two men!” “Oh, Ettie,” groaned Fred, “you’re entirely mistaken. Why, they’d laugh right in my face, if they didn’t get angry and knock me down. Reformers want to be older men, better men, men like your father, for instance, if people are to listen to them.” “Father says they need to be men who understand the nature of those they are talking to,” replied Esther; “and you once told me that you understood Moshier and Crayme perfectly.” “But just think of what they are, Ettie,” pleaded Fred. “Moshier is a contractor, and Crayme’s a steamboat captain; _such_ men never reform, though they always are good fellows. Why, if I were to speak to either of them on the subject, they’d laugh in my face, or curse me. The only way I was able to make peace with them for stopping drinking myself was to say that I did it to please my wife.”