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Of course we keep on living in the same place, but then she has a
periodical desire to better our condition.
The last time we were out a relative of hers who has always lived in
Jersey, mistress of her own lawn and with plenty of room to swing a cat
in her house, accompanied us.
It was very funny.
That dear little woman gave the heartache to many a lordly janitor
before we wound up the day.
Her remarks were so refreshing.
Now, at the very first place we examined I heard her give utterance to a
genuinely feminine squeal of delight.
"Why, isn't this just too cute for anything--the dearest little linen
closet I ever saw. Now, this is what I call sensible," she said,
enthusiastically.
"Excuse me," said the agent, coldly, "but that is not a linen closet,
lady; that's the dining-room."
After that I watched Mrs. Suburb eagerly, for somehow I conceived the
idea that she was in for a good time.
At another place there were limited accommodations, and when my wife
talked of putting Aleck to sleep in the parlor on a wire couch, I
entered my solemn protest.
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"The boycott is a relic of barbarism," I declared; and that settled our
chances of taking that flat.
Talking about flats and moving, puts me in mind of the long ago, when I
was a merry, light-hearted bachelor, not caring a rap what the day
brought forth.
Little I bothered myself about the price of spring bonnets or how the
crops promised.
Each day was sufficient unto itself, and brought its joys and
difficulties, but the tatler never weighed heavily.
I've raised a family since, and my credit is still good.
Thank you, I appreciate your encouragement, but one experience will
probably be quite sufficient for me.
Now, during these halcyon days of yore, I remember there was one dear
old lady who seemed to take the greatest interest in my welfare.
I often met her in the street, and she would even stop to chat with me
at times.
One day I was looking in at a shop window.
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