"Well, it seems to have made you pert-lookin' this mornin'. Your face is a-shinin'. Do you take one lump or two? Cream? Is that the right color? I'm particular about the color of my coffee." "Yes, that's just right. It smells delicious," said Mrs. Carrington, taking the cup. "No, I won't have anything to eat. Well--I don't know whether I can resist those hot rolls. Just a half of one, then. Is that honey? I ought not to eat sweets--I know my fate if I do; but I can't resist hot rolls and honey." She was quiet for a few moments. Then she looked up at Drusilla and said, half hesitatingly, "I presume you are wondering why I have come to make this early morning visit, Miss Doane?" "No; I ain't wonderin' at all. I'm just glad you come." "Well," and Mrs. Carrington laughed happily, "I'm so happy I just had to talk to some one. You know I have not been to see you before, because I expected to go to France next month for--for a--for rather an extended trip. And I thought there was no use in calling when I was going away so soon." "Yes; I heard you was goin' away," Drusilla said. Mrs. Carrington looked up quickly. "Oh, did you? I didn't know that people knew it. Who told you?" "The circulatin' family story-paper," laughed Drusilla, "Miss Lee." Mrs. Carrington frowned for a moment; then she laughed. "Oh, well, if Sarah knows it, it is no secret in Brookvale. But I am _not_ going away, so her story will have to be revised. What else did she say, Miss Doane?" "Well--I jest can't remember all she said--but--you said jest now you was happy. Miss Lee'll lose all interest in you now. There's nothin' so uninteresting to old maids as their married friends when they're happy." "I might just as well tell you myself, and it's all past now and I can talk without breaking my heart. Did Sarah tell you that we lost our little boy about a year ago?" "Yes; she told me, and I'm sorry for you. It must be a sad thing to lose a baby." "It nearly killed me, and--and--I began to think about myself too much--I can see that now. I began to feel that Robert did not understand me, that he did not miss our boy nor care as much as I did--that he was hard and occupied himself too much with business and neglected me--and--and--" "I understand," said Drusilla. "You didn't know that to a man work is the whole dinner, and love the pie that he has to finish it off and make the dinner perfect for him. Perhaps you didn't understand him no more than he did you?" "Perhaps that's so, but he didn't seem to share my trouble--" "Now, my dear," said Drusilla, reaching over and softly touching the pretty hand that was lying on the arm of the chair, "it ain't so much the troubles and sorrows they share, but the bridge parties and dances that they don't share that makes most of the troubles between husbands and wives." "Yes; perhaps that's so. I did get to caring too much for dancing and society, and went out too much without Robert. I was bored--"