He had said that before so often that Aggie had felt inclined to tell him that she couldn't afford it, either. But to-night she was silent, for he didn't know she knew. And as she saw that he (who did know) was trying to spare her, she blessed him in her heart. If he did not tell her everything that the doctor had said, he told her that Willie was all right. Willie had been declared to be a child of powerful health. They weren't to coddle him. As if any one _had_ coddled him! Poor Aggie only wished she had the time. But now that her release had come, she would have time, and strength, too, for many things that she had had to leave undone. She would get nearer to her children, and to her husband, too. Even at four o'clock in the morning, Aggie had joy in spite of her mortal weariness, as she rocked the sleepless baby on the sad breast that had never suckled him. She told the baby all about it, because she couldn't keep it in. "My beauty," she murmured, "he will always be my baby. He sha'n't have any little brothers or sisters, never any more. There--there--there, did they--? Hsh-sh-sh, my sweet pet, my lamb. My little king--he shall never be dethroned. Hush, hush, my treasure, or he'll wake his poor Daddy, he will." In another room, on his sleepless pillow, the baby's father turned and groaned. All the next day, and the next, Aggie went about with a light step, and with eyes that brightened like a bride's, because of the spring of new love in her heart. It came over her now how right Arthur had been, how she ought to have kept it up, and how fearfully she had let it go. Not only the lectures--what did they matter?--but her reading, her music, everything, all the little arts and refinements by which she had once captured Arthur's heart--"Things," she said, "that made all the difference to Arthur." How forbearing and constant he had been! That evening she dressed her hair and put flowers on the supper-table. Arthur opened his eyes at the unusual appearance, but said nothing. She could see that he was cross about something--something that had occurred in the office, probably. She had never grudged him his outbursts of irritability. It was his only dissipation. Aggie had always congratulated herself on being married to a good man. Coffee, the beloved luxury they had so long renounced, was served with that supper. But neither of them drank it. Arthur said he wasn't going to be kept awake two nights running, and after that, Aggie's heart was too sore to eat or drink anything. He commented bitterly on the waste. He said he wondered how on earth they were going to pay the doctor's bills, at that rate. Aggie pondered. He had lain awake all night thinking of the doctor's bills, had he? And yet that was just what they were to have no more of. Anyhow, he had been kept awake; and, of course, that was enough to make him irritable.