Mrs. Hayne, a reduced Southerner, whom Tarleton had started in business, offered his widow a large front room on the third floor of her boarding-house at the price of a back one. In spite of Mrs. Montgomery’s tears and remonstrances, Mrs. Tarleton accepted the offer, and persuaded herself that she was comfortable. She never went to the table, nor paid a call. Her friends, particularly the Southerners of her immediate circle, Mrs. Montgomery, Mrs. Geary, Mrs. Brannan, Mrs. Cartright, and Colonel Belmont were faithful; but as the years passed their visits became less frequent, and Mrs. Montgomery was much abroad with her children. Marguerite Tarleton cared little. Her interest in life had died with her husband; such energies as survived in her were centred in her child. When there was neither fog nor dust nor wind nor rain in the city, Lee dressed her peremptorily and took her for a ride in the cable-cars; but she spent measureless monotonous days in her reclining chair, reading or sewing. She did not complain except when in extreme pain, and was interested in every lineament of Lee’s busy little life. She never shed a tear before the child, and managed to maintain an even state of mild cheerfulness. And she was grateful for Lee’s skill and readiness in small matters as in great; her unaccustomed fingers would have made havoc with her hair and boots. “Did you never, never button your own boots, memmy?” asked Lee one day, as she was performing that office. “Never, honey. When Dinah was ill your father always buttoned them, and after she died he wouldn’t have thought of letting any one else touch them; most people pinch so. Of course he could not do my hair, but he often put me to bed, and he _always_ cut up my meat.” “Do all men do those things for their wives?” asked Lee in a voice of awe; “I think they must be very nice.” “All men who are fit to marry, and all Southern men, you may be sure. I want to live long enough to see you married to a man as nearly like your father as possible. I wonder if there are any left; America gallops so. He used to beg me to think of something new I wanted, something it would be difficult to get; and he fairly adored to button my boots; he never failed to put a little kiss right there on my instep when he finished.” “It must be lovely to be married!” said Lee. Mrs. Tarleton closed her eyes. “Was papa perfectly perfect?” asked Lee, as she finished her task and smoothed the kid over her mother’s beautiful instep. “Perfectly!” “I heard the butler say once that he was as drunk as a lord.” “Possibly, but he was perfect all the same. He got drunk like a gentleman--a Southern gentleman, I mean, of course. I always put him to bed and never alluded to it.” CHAPTER III