“It sounds fascinating, and I certainly think we must come,” Mary was saying, “though I don't know how I shall bring myself to part with Elliston,” and she hugged the baby close. “You born Mother!” said Constance. “I adored my boys, but I was always enchanted to escape from them.” She laughed like a girl. “Now you grasp the inwardness of my Christmas present--it is a coasting outfit. Won't she look lovely in it, Mr. Byrd?” “Glorious!” said Stefan, boyishly aglow; and “I don't believe two and two do make four, after all,” thought Constance. All through luncheon they discussed the plan with animation, Constance enlisting Mary's help at the Suffrage Fête the first week in January in advance payment, as she said, for the house-party. “Why not get your nurse a few days earlier to break her in, and be free to give me as much time as possible?” she urged. “Good idea, Mary,” Stefan chimed in. “I'll stay in town that week and lunch with you at the bazaar, and you could sleep a night or two at the studio.” “We'll see,” said Mary, a little non-committal. She knew she should enjoy the Fête immensely, but somehow, she did not feel she could bring herself to sleep in the little studio, with Felicity the Nixie sneering down at her from one wall, and Felicity the Dancer challenging from the other. But it was a much cheered couple that Constance left behind, and Stefan came home every afternoon during the week that remained till the opening of the bazaar. Being in the city for this event, Mary, in addition to engaging a nurse, indulged in some rather extravagant shopping. She had made up her mind to look her best at Burlington, and though Mary was slow to move, when she did take action her methods were thorough. She realized with gratitude that Constance, whom she suspected of knowing more than she indicated, had given her a wonderful opportunity of renewing her appeal to her husband, and she was determined to use it to the full. Incapable--as are all women of her type--of coquetry, Mary yet knew the value of her beauty, and was too intelligent not to see that both it and she had been at a grave disadvantage of late. She understood dimly that she was confronted by one of the fundamental problems of marriage, the difficulty of making an equal success of love and motherhood. She could not put her husband permanently before her child, as Constance had done, and as she knew most Englishwomen did, but she meant to do it completely for this one week of holiday, at least.