Mrs. Severs only sniffed. She knew this was the working out of Eveley's plot, though Eveley had not confided in her, knowing instinctively that the bride would tell the groom, and that the groom would be sure to stop it. So Mrs. Severs saw her father-in-law clamber into the little car at five o'clock, with something like hope in her breast.

For a time, he was intensely absorbed in the manipulation of the gears, and the brakes, his lower lip clutched tightly between his teeth, breathing in full short gusts like a war horse champing for battle. But when at last they were fully started and running with reasonable smoothness, he said:

"Who says this isn't a car? You talk to daughter about it, will you? You explain to her that this is a regular car like anything else."

"Some people are so funny, aren't they? How well you drive it! It is lots of sport, isn't it? I should think it would be fine for you to have a car to run around in. Then you and your friend could go to Ocean Beach, and fish, and up to the mountains and shoot, and have a wonderful time."

"I hadn't thought of that. I--you talk to daughter, will you? Tell her she won't have to ride in it."

"Turn to the right here," said Eveley suddenly. "The cottage is the cunningest thing you ever saw, just two rooms, high on the hill overlooking the bay. I am so tired of being cooped up in a house with a whole crowd. I want to be absolutely free to do as I please."

He sighed heavily again. "It is the only life. The only way to live. But shucks, folks can't always have what they want."

"There it is, that little white house, third from the corner," she said, pointing eagerly, as he drew up the car to a spasmodic halt.

He looked critically at the small lawn and the tiny cottage. "Those rose-bushes need tr.i.m.m.i.n.g," he said, frowning. "There's a loose corner on the porch, too. Bet that gra.s.s hasn't been watered for three weeks. Why folks don't keep up their property is more than I can see."

"Look at the view," said Eveley suddenly. "See the ships out in the bay, and the aeroplanes over North Island. Isn't it beautiful? If we had field-gla.s.ses we could see the people walking around in Tent City, and the lemon in the tea on the veranda at Coronado."

"I've got field-gla.s.ses at home," he said wistfully. "In my suit-case.

But I didn't unpack. Daughter does not like a lot of trash around the house. I'll bet we could see the gobs on that battle-ship if we had the gla.s.ses." He turned again to the yard. "It'll take a lot of work keeping up this place. And you busy every day wouldn't have much time for it. I reckon you'd be afraid alone nights, too. An apartment is better for a woman by herself."

"But the freedom--"

"Women hadn't ought to have too much freedom. It spoils 'em. This is the born place for a man--and a dog--and field-gla.s.ses--and a Ford."

"Let's go inside and look it over," said Eveley. "Did you ever see such a place for chickens? Nice clean little coops all ready for them. Wouldn't it be a paradise for half a dozen hens?"

"It's a lot of work raising chickens," said the old man. "It's a job for a man, really. You wouldn't like it." Then, thoughtfully: "Half a day's work would make that place fit for the king's pullets."

"And look at the cunning little garden," urged Eveley.

"Needs hoeing. All run over with weeds. Whole place going to rack and ruin. Needs a man around here, anybody can see that."

"Come in, come in," cried Eveley, unlocking the kitchen door. "See the little gas stove, and the tiny table--and the cooler. Isn't it fun?

Couldn't you have the time of your life here, reveling in liver and cabbage and pinochle? Wouldn't your friend be crazy about it?"

The old man squirmed restlessly, and pa.s.sed into the next room. Eveley dropped down on the side of the bed, and set the springs bounding.

"It is a good bed. That table seems made for pinochle, doesn't it? I can just see this place, with you and your friend, the room thick with smoke--and no one to say, 'Oh, father, it's terribly late.'" Eveley put up a very fair imitation of Mrs. Severs' ripply, bridal voice.

"A phonograph--there ought to be a phonograph, to play _Bonnie Sweet Bessie_, and _Nelly Gray_."

"Just the thing. A phonograph. That is the one thing lacking. I knew there was something needed."

Father-in-law was quiet after that. He walked about slowly, peering into every nook and corner. But finally he went out to the car, and climbed in. Eveley followed silently. He started the car with a bang and a tug, and drove home swiftly, speaking not one word on the way. But Eveley was content.

Quite late that evening he came up the rustic stairs and knocked on her window.

"Say, Miss Ainsworth," he asked anxiously, "did you decide to take that cottage and live alone? Pretty risky business, I'm afraid. And it's a sight of work keeping up a garden like that--and chickens are a d.i.c.kens of a lot of trouble."

"I am afraid so," said Eveley wistfully. "I believe your advice is good.

It is a darling little place, but I suspect I'd better give up the idea entirely."

"That's right. You're a sensible girl. Very sensible."

And he turned abruptly and went creaking down the stairs once more.

The next evening as she swung her car up to the curb, Eveley found him waiting.

"I'm afraid I'll have to give it up," he said, and added apologetically, "I thought since you didn't want it, I might take it myself. But if I went away they'd think I was dissatisfied, and maybe they hadn't been good to me or something. I wouldn't like to hurt their feelings."

"Can't you pretend you hate to leave, but you feel it is your duty?"

Eveley almost choked on the word, but she knew it would be only folly to explain her advanced ideas to this kindly conscientious soul. "You tell them that you think it is your solemn duty to go and leave them alone, and that you can't be happy unless you are doing your duty. Tell them that honeymooners need to be alone."

"That's a good idea. I'll try it on them right away."

When he timidly, then enthusiastically pressed his case, Mrs. Severs, seeing in his sudden determination to do his duty the happy fruition of Eveley's plan, voiced only a few polite words of mild protest, but her husband was flat-footed and vociferous in his objections.

"Just cut out the nonsense, dad, and behave yourself. It is your duty to stay here where you belong, and you can stick around and get used to it.

You can't go off by yourself, and that settles it."

"I wouldn't be lonesome," said his father meekly. "I could get along. And I could come and visit you. I think--maybe--I'd like it pretty good."

"Oh, I'm on to you, dad. You just say that because you think it would be better for us. Why, you'd be lonely as the deuce." And he went off into the other room and considered the subject closed.

Late that night, Mrs. Severs ran up the stairs.

"Eveley, he really asked to go, but Dody wouldn't hear of it. And I do feel ashamed of myself. We can't turn the poor old fellow out. It would not be right. Just let it go, and I'll try to get used to it. He really is a dear old thing."

"Listen here, Mrs. Severs, do you mean that you are selfish enough to keep that poor old man here with you spooners when he really wants to be off alone where he can fish and cook and roam around to his heart's content? Can't you see it is your plain duty to make him go where he can live his own life? I--I am surprised at you."

"Oh! You think--you mean--maybe he would be happier?"

"Why, of course he would. And it is your duty to deny yourselves in order to make him happy."

"Oh, I see." Mrs. Severs was quite radiant. "Talk to Dody about it, will you? He wants to do his duty, but he sees it the other way round."

"Leave him to me."

Some time later, Father-in-law himself crept softly up the stairway and tapped on the window.

"Hist," he whispered. "It's no good. Andy won't hear of it. Can't you think of something?"

"Leave him to me," she said again. "I am the original little fixer, and I'll attend to Andrew Dody."

The next morning, quite willing to sacrifice her last nap in her desire to crush all duty, she started for work half an hour earlier than usual, and invited Mr. Severs to ride down-town with her. And as they started off, Father and Daughter-in-law from separate windows of the house watched their departure, and prayed that success might crown her efforts.

"I want to talk to you confidentially, Mr. Severs," she said softly.