She sat up and gathered them into her hands, eagerly burying her face among the crimson beauties and inhaling their fragrance. The next moment there came a tap upon the door leading into the parlor, and the girl who had attended her the evening before came in to help her dress. It was half-past seven when she entered their parlor, where Dr. Winthrop sat reading the morning paper awaiting her appearance. He sprang at once to meet her, his face lighting up. He took both her hands, roses and all, and drew her to him. “Surely you have slept well, dear,” he said, “for there is a little color in your cheeks this morning.” The color deepened as she laughed lightly and laid her roses against his face. “You must know that I did,” she replied, “even better than well, or I certainly should have awakened when these were laid upon my pillow.” Dr. Winthrop smiled. “I took a long horse-car ride this morning a little way out of town and walked back,” he said. “On my way I was overtaken by a man driving in with cut flowers, and that is how you happened to get your roses, Salome.” “They are lovely—thank you, Dr. True.” He smiled to see that she still clung to the medical prefix, but believed she would drop it when her shyness should wear off a little, and so said nothing about it. “Our breakfast is waiting,” he said, “and we shall have just about time enough to get comfortably ready for our trip. Shall you be glad to get home, little wife?” Tears rushed to Salome’s eyes at the question. “I cannot tell you what a charm there is in that word for me,” she said tremulously. “Nor I, dear, now that I am not obliged to go back to the place alone,” he returned, with a satisfied smile. Then he helped her to the breast of a chicken and toasted her a slice of bread over a tiny brazier, for he would not allow her to have hot rolls just yet, while she poured out the coffee. He kept her attention by pleasant and genial conversation throughout the meal, and she felt sorry when it was over, while she became aware that she had eaten her first really hearty breakfast since her illness. Then they had to get ready for the train, where Salome found that they were to have the state-room of the parlor-car. Here she could lie down and rest if she became weary, and was free to do exactly as she chose. She was touched as she noticed this and other kind provisions her thoughtful husband had made for her; for on a little stand there was a dainty basket of choice fruit, a bottle of wine, and several new books. She never forgot that ride of six hours—it was a sacred memory to her during all her future life. Her husband was all kindness and attention. He talked with her for a while, then read to her until she became weary, when he made her lie down and sat beside her, and, to pass away the time, related many interesting incidents connected with his profession.