“Thank you, John dear, thousands upon thousands of times. And I may take it for granted, no doubt,” with a little faltering, “that you would be quite as contented yourself John? But, yes, I know I may. For, knowing that I should be so, how surely I may know that you would be so; you who are so much stronger, and firmer, and more reasonable and more generous, than I am.”

“Hush!” said her husband, “I must not hear that. You are all wrong there, though otherwise as right as can be. And now I am brought to a little piece of news, my dearest, that I might have told you earlier in the evening. I have strong reason for confidently believing that we shall never be in the receipt of a smaller income than our present income.”

She might have shown herself more interested in the intelligence; but she had returned to the investigation of the coat-button that had engaged her attention a few hours before, and scarcely seemed to heed what he said.

“And now we have got to the bottom of it at last,” cried her husband, rallying her, “and this is the thing that made you serious?”