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THE CYNOSURE.
It's a singular thing that the commonest place Is the hardest to properly fill; That the labor imposed on a full half the race Is so seldom performed with good will-- To say nothing of knowledge or skill! What we ask of all women, we stare at in one, And tribute of wonderment bring; If this task of the million is once fitly done We all hold our hands up and sing! It's really a singular thing! Isabel Porne was a cautious woman, and made no acclaim over her new acquisition until its value was proven.

Her husband also bided his time; and when congratulated on his improved appearance and air of contentment, merely vouchsafed that his wife had a new girl who could cook.
To himself he boasted that he had a new wife who could love--so cheerful and gay grew Mrs.Porne in the changed atmosphere of her home.
"It is remarkable, Edgar," she said, dilating repeatedly on the peculiar quality of their good fortune.

"It's not only good cooking, and good waiting, and a clean house--cleaner than I ever saw one before; and it's not only the quietness, and regularity and economy--why the bills have gone down more than a third!" "Yes--even I noticed that," he agreed.
"But what I enjoy the most is the _atmosphere,_" she continued.

"When I have to do the work, the house is a perfect nightmare to me!" She leaned forward from her low stool, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands, and regarded him intently.
"Edgar! You know I love you.