“Of course I love him!” she said to herself aloud but softly, remembering the baby, “And no doubt he loves me! I'm glad to be his wife! I'm glad to be a mother to his child! I'm glad I married him! But--_this_ is not what he offered! And it's not what I undertook! He hasn't had to change his business!” She marched up and down the scant space, and then stopped short and laughed drily, continuing her smothered soliloquy. “'Do you love me?' they ask, and, 'I will make you happy!' they say; and you get married--and after that it's Housework!” “They don't say, 'Will you be my Cook?' 'Will you be my Chamber maid?' 'Will you give up a good clean well-paid business that you love--that has big hope and power and beauty in it--and come and keep house for me?'” “Love him? I'd be in Paris this minute if I didn't! What has 'love' to do with dust and grease and flies!” Then she did drop on the small sofa and cry tempestuously for a little while; but soon arose, fiercely ashamed of her weakness, and faced the day; thinking of the old lady who had so much to do she couldn't think what to first--so she sat down and made a pincushion. Then--where to begin! “Eddie will sleep till half-past ten--if I'm lucky. It's now nearly half-past nine,” she meditated aloud. “If I do the upstairs work I might wake him. I mustn't forget the bread, the dishes, the parlor--O those flies! Well--I'll clear the table first!” Stepping softly, and handling the dishes with slow care, she cleaned the breakfast table and darkened the dining-room, flapping out some of the flies with a towel. Then she essayed the parlor, dusting and arranging with undecided steps. “It _ought_ to be swept,” she admitted to herself; “I can't do it--there isn't time. I'll make it dark--” “I'd rather plan a dozen houses!” she fiercely muttered, as she fussed about. “Yes--I'd rather build 'em--than to keep one clean!” Then were her hopes dashed by a rising wail from above. She sat quite still awhile, hoping against hope that he would sleep again; but he wouldn't. So she brought him down in full cry. In her low chair by the window she held him and produced bright and jingling objects from the tall workbasket that stood near by, sighing again as she glanced at its accumulated mending. Master Eddy grew calm and happy in her arms, but showed a growing interest in the pleasing materials produced for his amusement, and a desire for closer acquaintance. Then a penetrating odor filled the air, and with a sudden “O dear!” she rose, put the baby on the sofa, and started toward the kitchen. At this moment the doorbell rang. Mrs. Porne stopped in her tracks and looked at the door. It remained opaque and immovable. She looked at the baby--who jiggled his spools and crowed. Then she flew to the oven and dragged forth the bread, not much burned after all. Then she opened the door.