Think of it--my good right arm that I've lost so long!" "_Oh, Bertram!_" breathed Billy.

And she, too, fell to sobbing.
Later, when speech was more coherent, she faltered: "Well, anyway, it doesn't make any difference _how_ many beautiful pictures you p-paint, after this, Bertram, I _can't_ be prouder of any than I am of the one your l--left hand did." "Oh, but I have you to thank for all that, dear." "No, you haven't," disputed Billy, blinking teary eyes; "but--" she paused, then went on spiritedly, "but, anyhow, I--I don't believe any one--not even Kate--can say _now_ that--that I've been a hindrance to you in your c-career!" "Hindrance!" scoffed Bertram, in a tone that left no room for doubt, and with a kiss that left even less, if possible.
Billy, for still another minute, was silent; then, with a wistfulness that was half playful, half serious, she sighed: "Bertram, I believe being married is something like clocks, you know, 'specially at the first." "Clocks, dear ?" "Yes.

I was out to Aunt Hannah's to-day.

She was fussing with her clock--the one that strikes half an hour ahead--and I saw all those quantities of wheels, little and big, that have to go just so, with all the little cogs fitting into all the other little cogs just exactly right.

Well, that's like marriage.