“Now, my dear,” said Mrs. Holt, when they were seated before the fire after lunch, “I want you to feel that you can come to me for everything.  I must congratulate you and Howard on being sensible enough to start your married life simply, in the country.  I shall never forget the little house in which Mr. Holt and I began, and how blissfully happy I was.”  The good lady reached out and took Honora’s hand in her own.  “Not that your deep feeling for your husband will ever change.  But men are more difficult to manage as they grow older, my dear, and the best of them require a little managing for their own good.  And increased establishments bring added cares and responsibilities.  Now that I am here, I have formed a very fair notion of what it ought to cost you to live in such a place.  And I shall be glad to go over your housekeeping books with you, and tell you if you are being cheated as I dare say you are.”

“Oh, Mrs. Holt,” Honora faltered, “I—­I haven’t kept any books.  Howard just pays the bills.”

“You mean to say he hasn’t given you any allowance!” cried Mrs. Holt, aghast.  “You don’t know what it costs to run this house?”

“No,” said Honora, humbly.  “I never thought of it.  I have no idea what Howard’s income may be.”

“I’ll write to Howard myself—­to-night,” declared Mrs. Holt.

“Please don’t, Mrs. Holt.  I’ll—­I’ll speak to him,” said Honora.

“Very well, then,” the good lady agreed, “and I will send you one of my own books, with my own system, as soon as I get home.  It is not your fault, my dear, it is Howard’s.  It is little short of criminal of him.  I suppose this is one of the pernicious results of being on the Stock Exchange.  New York is nothing like what it was when I was a girl—­the extravagance by everybody is actually appalling.  The whole city is bent upon lavishness and pleasure.  And I am afraid it is very often the wives, Honora, who take the lead in prodigality.  It all tends, my dear, to loosen the marriage tie—­especially this frightful habit of dining in hotels and restaurants.”

Before she left Mrs. Holt insisted on going over the house from top to bottom, from laundry to linen closet.  Suffice it to say that the inspection was not without a certain criticism, which must be passed over.

“It is a little large, just for you and Howard, my dear,” was her final comment.  “But you are wise in providing for the future.”

“For the future?” Honora repeated.

Mrs. Holt playfully pinched her cheek.

“When the children arrive, my dear, as I hope they will—­soon,” she said, smiling at Honora’s colour.  “Sometimes it all comes back to me—­my own joy when Joshua was a baby.  I was very foolish about him, no doubt.  Annie and Gwendolen tell me so.  I wouldn’t even let the nurse sit up with him when he was getting his teeth.  Mercy!” she exclaimed, glancing at the enamelled watch on her gown,—­for long practice had enabled her to tell the time upside down,—­“we’ll be late for the train, my dear.”