"What was yesterday?" she said.
"Tuesday, my dear. We will now have a little chat about Tuesday. Coming as
it does so soon after Monday, it not unnaturally exhibits--"
"Tuesday the 25th of February," said Margaret solemnly.
"Possibly, my dear, possibly. But I cannot say that I find your remarks
very interesting. They may be true, or they may not, but they certainly
seem to me to lack that agreeable whimsicality usually so characteristic of
you."
"Our wedding-day," said Margaret impressively.
"Was it really?" I said in a whisper. "And you let it pass without
reminding me. Oh, how could you?"
Margaret smiled.
"I didn't think of it till this morning--after you had gone," she said.
We both smiled. Then we laughed.
"You know, we really are a dreadful couple." I said. "Your fault is greater
than mine, though. I'll tell you why. Everyone knows that a man--especially
a manly man--" I tugged my moustache and let my biceps out for a run--
"never remembers anniversaries, whereas a woman--a womanly woman--does."
Here I plucked a daffodil from a bowl near by and tucked it coyly behind
her ear.
"It really is rather awful of us." Margaret restored the daffodil to its
young companions. "We've only been married three years, too, and yet
already--" She threw out her arms in a hopeless gesture.
"Still," I said presently, with my hand full of her hand--"still I daresay
we shall get used to it in time--forgetting the day, I mean. After about
the fourth lapse there will be hardly any sting in our little piece of
annual forgetfulness."
"We mustn't forget to remember we've forgotten it, though, Gerald, so that
we can test the waning powers of the sting."
"I can see this habit growing on us," I said dreamily; "a few more years
and we shall forget we are married even. I shall come home one day--
provided I remember where we live--and be horrified to find _you_
established in my house and using my sealing-wax. Or maybe I shall arrive
with some little offering of early rhubarb or forced artichokes only to be
sternly ordered away by a wife who does not recognise me. 'Please take your
greens round to the tradesmen's entrance,' you will say coldly."
"I think," said Margaret, "that we ought to be extra nice to each other
now, seeing how short our married life may be. Let's begin at once. You let
me tidy your desk every day for you and--"
"Won't twice a week satisfy you?" I asked desperately.
"Perhaps; and anyway"--she put a little packet into my hand--"here's _my_
present to you, even though you did forget yesterday."
"You are a dear, Margaret. And now I'll tell you something. It was--"
Just then James came in and announced dinner. James is all our staff; but
her other name is Keziah, so we had no choice.
As we sat down I took a small box out of my pocket.
"Give this to your mistress, please," I said to James.
"O-o-o. How ripping of you, Gerald! So you did remember, after all."
"As soon as I got to the station this morning," I said, "I remembered that
our wedding-day was to-day."