gaiters, Ralph's gift also, he used to sit in the big chair, peering at her, and in a quandary as to whether he had ever been so happy before, or ever so disquieted.

"Now, my little woman," said Ralph, "I have redeemed my promises; you have a chamber, and garments, and subsistence—more than any of your friends—and I am with you always; few wives live so pleasantly; but there is one thing which you must do."

Suzette, sitting upon his knee, protested that he could not command any impossible thing which she would not undertake.

"You must work a little; we are both idle, and if we continue so, may have ennui and may quarrel. After three days I will not pay for your breakfasts, and every day in which you do not breakfast with me, paying for yourself, I will give you no dinner. Remember it, Suzette, for I am in earnest."

Her color fell a little at this, for she had no love for the needle. It was merrier in the boutique to chat with customers, yet she started fairly, and for a week earned a franc a day. The eighth day came; she had no money. Ralph put on his hat and went down the[Pg 114] Rue L'École de Médecin without her; but his breakfast was unpalatable, indigestible. Five o'clock came round; she was sitting at the window, perturbedly waiting to see how he would act.

[Pg 114]

It wrung his heart to think that she was hungry, but he tried to be very firm.

"I am going to dinner, Suzette! I keep my word, you see."

"It is well, Ralph."

That night they said little to each other. The dovecote was quite cold, for the autumn days were running out, and they lighted a hearth fire. Suzette made pretence of reading. She had an impenitent look; for she conceived that she had been cruelly treated, and would not be soothed nor kissed. Ralph smoked, and said over some old rhymes, and, finally rising, put on his cloak.

"I am going out, Suzette; you don't make my room cheerful."

"Bien!"

He walked very slowly and heavily down the stairs, to convince her that he was really going or hoping to be 

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