The Pensacola Journal

Revelations of a Wife
By ADELE GARRISON.

CHAPTER LXXVIII.

The Problem That the Coming of Dicky's Mother Caused.

"Well!" Dicky's voice held a note of doubt as he held out his hand for his mother's letter. I knew that he was anxiously awaiting my decision as to the proposition it contained and I hastened to reassure him.

"Of course there is but one thing to be done," I said, trying hard to make my tone cordial.

"And that is?" Dicky looked at me curiously. Was it possibly that he did not understand my meaning?

"Why, you must wire her at once to come to us. Be sure you tell her that she will be most welcome."

I felt a trifle ashamed that the welcoming words were such a sham from my lips. Dicky's mother was distinctly not welcome as far as I was concerned. I had never seen her, but I knew that she disapproved of my marriage to Dicky, and that she had selected another wife for him. Why, she even had refused to come to our wedding because of her disappointment in his choice of a wife! Surely I was justified in resenting her coming!

My thoughts flew swiftly back to my own mother, gone forever from me.

Suppose she were the one who needed a home? How would I like to have Dicky's secret thoughts about her welcome the same as mine were now?

"That's awfully good of you, Madge," Dicky's voice brought me back from my reverie.

"Of course I know you are not particularly keen about her coming. That wouldn't be natural, but it's bully of you to pretend just the same."

I opened my mouth to protest, and then thought better of it. There was no use trying to deceive Dicky. If he was satisfied with my attitude toward his mother, that was all that was necessary.

"I say! I say, Madge!" Dicky's tone spelled consternation as if he had just thought of something unpleasant.

"Where is mother going to sleep?"

I looked at him in a dismay equal to his own. There were but two bedrooms in our apartment, Dicky's and mine, for the cubbyhole which Katie claimed was hardly worthy of the name room. Only a person who, like Katie, had been used to the cramped quarters of an East Side tenement could have endured it.

The coming of Dicky's mother would means that one of us would have to give up a room to her. I knew that Dicky shared my views on the inconvenience and undesirability of husband and wife sharing the same room.

Both Dicky and I had always been used to sanctums of our own. The prospect of losing the privacy that had been mine brought home to me as nothing else could, the petty annoyances that would follow the advent of Dicky's mother into our home.

"I don't know." I answered slowly. "Of course she must have one of the bedrooms."

Dicky looked blankly at me.

"Why couldn't you and mother share a bedroom?" he asked. "Two women ought to be able to get along together in one room."

"Hasn't your mother always been accustomed to her own room at your sister's?" I queried coldly.

"I suppose so," Dicky returned petulantly, "but that's no reason why she can't put up with different conditions for a while. Of course we shall have to take a larger apartment another year, but as long as we are probably going in the country in early spring anyway, there's no use in changing before then."

"Are we really going to the country?" I asked, the problem of Dicky's mother forgotten for the moment. Before our day's outing in Marvin Dicky had mentioned the possibility of taking a house in the country for the summer, but I did not realize that he had really decided upon doing so.

"Of course," said Dicky, nonchalantly. "There are plenty of pretty places around Marvin we can get furnished. We'll take a run out there toward spring and find one."

I felt as if a dash of cold water had been thrown over me. Marvin was the home of Miss Draper, whose beauty had so attracted Dicky that he had engaged her as a model.

Try as I might to shake it off, I had a queer little presentment that the coming of Miss Draper into Dicky's life boded no good for me.

But I knew better than to say anything concerning Miss Draper just then. The plans for the coming of Dicky's mother threatened enough unpleasantness without by introducing any other subject.

"Does your mother like the country?" I asked.

"Not particularly, but it's better for her." Dicky answered easily. Evidently his mother's prejudices and wishes sat lightly upon him. "By the way, have you decided about her bedroom yet?"

"Why, no, how can I? We never can share the same bed, that is certain. A woman as old as your mother, and in her health ought to have a comfortable bed to herself."

"What's the matter with my sending up one of those couch beds they advertise so widely? I slept on one once, and it was mighty comfortable. Then one of you could sleep on that."

"Dicky!" I expostulated. "Do you realize the size of my room? A couch bed would never fit in there. I hardly have room to turn around now."

"I didn't mean to put it in your room. Put it in the dining room. It will fit in well enough with the general scheme in there. Then one of you could sleep there and dress in the bedroom."

I looked at Dicky steadily for a minute before answering him. I was getting a new light upon his character. I had always thought him impulsively generous and kind.

Yet here he was calmly planning for the inconvenience of both his mother and myself, with never a thought of sacrificing any of his own comfort.

"It has not occurred to you then," I said icily, "that another solution of the problem might be for your mother - "
Dicky flushed resentfully.

"How would that better things?" he demanded.

"Two of us would have to dress in one small room, and we would have to have the couch just the same. I always have had a bed to myself all my life."

"So have I, but there would be one advantage - your mother would have a room to herself, something which I should think her son would deem desirable," I could not keep my disapproval of Dicky's selfishness from my voice.

"Look here," began Dicky, hotly, but I went on as if I had not heard him.

"However, I will not ask you for such a sacrifice," I said smoothly. "I will give my room to your mother, sleep on a couch in the dining room, as you suggest, dress in the bathroom, and keep my belongings in some empty room in the building. I know there must be some family in the building who would be willing to rent me a small room."

Dicky stared for a minute. Then he broke into a disagreeable laugh.

"Gee, what a martyr she's going to be!" he said as he reached for his coat.

"Just going to tie herself to the stake and roast over a coal fire, isn't she?"

I was glad he did not try to kiss me as he went out. I think I should have struck him if he had attempted it.