Then a sudden memory came to her. She turned, uplifted kettle in her hand to the husband who watched her with prideful eyes. “Oh, Hugh, dear,” she remembered, “on your way to work in the morning, will you stop in at Thompson’s and send me out twelve yards of tennis flannel? I must make some new nighties for the babies. And be sure to send pink; it always washes so much better than blue——” THE END. * * * * * Transcriber’s Notes: A few obvious punctuation and typesetting errors have been corrected without note. [End of _The Valley of Content_ by Blanche Upright]