CHAPTER　TWENTY…EIGHT
  Like　most　other　young　matrons；　Meg　began　her　married　life　with　the　determination　to　be　a　model　housekeeper。　John　should　find　home　a　paradise；　he　should　always　see　a　smiling　face；　should　fare　sumptuously　every　day；　and　never　know　the　loss　of　a　button。　She　brought　so　much　love；　energy；　and　cheerfulness　to　the　work　that　she　could　not　but　succeed；　in　spite　of　some　obstacles。　Her　paradise　was　not　a　tranquil　one；　for　the　little　woman　fussed；　was　over…anxious　to　please；　and　bustled　about　like　a　true　Martha；　cumbered　with　many　cares。　She　was　too　tired；　sometimes；　even　to　smile；　John　grew　dyspeptic　after　a　course　of　dainty　dishes　and　ungratefully　demanded　plain　fare。　As　for　buttons；　she　soon　learned　to　wonder　where　they　went；　to　shake　her　head　over　the　carelessness　of　men；　and　to　threaten　to　make　him　sew　them　on　himself；　and　see　if　his　work　would　stand　impatient　and　clumsy　fingers　any　better　than　hers。
  They　were　very　happy；　even　after　they　discovered　that　they　couldn't　live　on　love　alone。　John　did　not　find　Meg's　beauty　diminished；　though　she　beamed　at　him　from　behind　the　familiar　coffee　pot。　Nor　did　Meg　miss　any　of　the　romance　from　the　daily　parting；　when　her　husband　followed　up　his　kiss　with　the　tender　inquiry；　〃Shall　I　send　some　veal　or　mutton　for　dinner；　darling？〃　The　little　house　ceased　to　be　a　glorified　bower；　but　it　became　a　home；　and　the　young　couple　soon　felt　that　it　was　a　change　for　the　better。　At　first　they　played　keep…house；　and　frolicked　over　it　like　children。　Then　John　took　steadily　to　business；　feeling　the　cares　of　the　head　of　a　family　upon　his　shoulders；　and　Meg　laid　by　her　cambric　wrappers；　put　on　a　big　apron；　and　fell　to　work；　as　before　said；　with　more　energy　than　discretion。
  While　the　cooking　mania　lasted　she　went　through　Mrs。　Cornelius's　Receipt　Book　as　if　it　were　a　mathematical　exercise；　working　out　the　problems　with　patience　and　care。　Sometimes　her　family　were　invited　in　to　help　eat　up　a　too　bounteous　feast　of　successes；　or　Lotty　would　be　privately　dispatched　with　a　batch　of　failures；　which　were　to　be　concealed　from　all　eyes　in　the　convenient　stomachs　of　the　little　Hummels。　An　evening　with　John　over　the　account　books　usually　produced　a　temporary　lull　in　the　culinary　enthusiasm；　and　a　frugal　fit　would　ensue；　during　which　the　poor　man　was　put　through　a　course　of　bread　pudding；　hash；　and　warmed…over　coffee；　which　tried　his　soul；　although　he　bore　it　with　praiseworthy　fortitude。　Before　the　golden　mean　was　found；　however；　Meg　added　to　her　domestic　possessions　what　young　couples　seldom　get　on　long　without；　a　family　jar。
  Fired　a　with　housewifely　wish　to　see　her　storeroom　stocked　with　homemade　preserves；　she　undertook　to　put　up　her　own　currant　jelly。　John　was　requested　to　order　home　a　dozen　or　so　of　little　pots　and　an　extra　quantity　of　sugar；　for　their　own　currants　were　ripe　and　were　to　be　attended　to　at　once。　As　John　firmly　believed　that　‘my　wife'　was　equal　to　anything；　and　took　a　natural　pride　in　her　skill；　he　resolved　that　she　should　be　gratified；　and　their　only　crop　of　fruit　laid　by　in　a　most　pleasing　form　for　winter　use。　Home　came　four　dozen　delightful　little　pots；　half　a　barrel　of　sugar；　and　a　small　boy　to　pick　the　currants　for　her。　With　her　pretty　hair　tucked　into　a　little　cap；　arms　bared　to　the　elbow；　and　a　checked　apron　which　had　a　coquettish　look　in　spite　of　the　bib；　the　young　housewife　fell　to　work；　feeling　no　doubts　about　her　success；　for　hadn't　she　seen　Hannah　do　it　hundreds　of　times？　The　array　of　pots　rather　amazed　her　at　first；　but　John　was　so　fond　of　jelly；　and　the　nice　little　jars　would　look　so　well　on　the　top　shelf；　that　Meg　resolved　to　fill　them　all；　and　spend　a　long　day　picking；　boiling；　straining；　and　fussing　over　her　jelly。　She　did　her　best；　she　asked　advice　of　Mrs。　Cornelius；　she　racked　her　brain　to　remember　what　Hannah　did　that　she　left　undone；　she　reboiled；　resugared；　and　restrained；　but　that　dreadful　stuff　wouldn't　‘jell'。
  She　longed　to　run　home；　bib　and　all；　and　ask　Mother　to　lend　her　a　hand；　but　John　and　she　had　agreed　that　they　would　never　annoy　anyone　with　their　private　worries；　experiments；　or　quarrels。　They　had　laughed　over　that　last　word　as　if　the　idea　it　suggested　was　a　most　preposterous　one；　but　they　had　held　to　their　resolve；　and　whenever　they　could　get　on　without　help　they　did　so；　and　no　one　interfered；　for　Mrs。　March　had　advised　the　plan。　So　Meg　wrestled　alone　with　the　refractory　sweetmeats　all　that　hot　summer　day；　and　at　five　o'clock　sat　down　in　her　topsy…turvey　kitchen；　wrung　her　bedaubed　hands；　lifted　up　her　voice　and　wept。
  Now；　in　the　first　flush　of　the　new　life；　she　had　often　said；　〃My　husband　shall　always　feel　free　to　bring　a　friend　home　whenever　he　likes。　I　shall　always　be　prepared。　There　shall　be　no　flurry；　no　scolding；　no　discomfort；　but　a　neat　house；　a　cheerful　wife；　and　a　good　dinner。　John；　dear；　never　stop　to　ask　my　leave；　invite　whom　you　please；　and　be　sure　of　a　welcome　from　me。〃
  How　charming　that　was；　to　be　sure！　John　quite　glowed　with　pride　to　hear　her　say　it；　and　felt　what　a　blessed　thing　it　was　to　have　a　superior　wife。　But；　although　they　had　had　company　from　time　to　time；　it　never　happened　to　be　unexpected；　and　Meg　had　never　had　an　opportunity　to　distinguish　herself　till　now。　It　always　happens　so　in　this　vale　of　tears；　there　is　an　inevitability　about　such　things　which　we　can　only　wonder　at；　deplore；　and　bear　as　we　best　can。
  If　John　had　not　forgotten　all　about　the　jelly；　it　really　would　have　been　unpardonable　in　him　to　choose　that　day；　of　all　the　days　in　the　year；　to　bring　a　friend　home　to　dinner　unexpectedly。　Congratulating　himself　that　a　handsome　repast　had　been　ordered　that　morning；　feeling　sure　that　it　would　be　ready　to　the　minute；　and　indulging　in　pleasant　anticipations　of　the　charming　effect　it　would　produce；　when　his　pretty　wife　came　running　out　to　meet　him；　he　escorted　his　friend　to　his　mansion；　with　the　irrepressible　satisfaction　of　a　young　host　and　husband。
  It　is　a　world　of　disappointments；　as　John　discovered　when　he　reached　the　Dovecote。　the　front　door　usually　stood　hospitably　open。　Now　it　was　not　only　shut；　but　locked；　and　yesterday's　mud　still　adorned　the　steps。　The　parlor　windows　were　closed　and　curtained；　no　picture　of　the　pretty　wife　sewing　on　the　piazza；　in　white；　with　a　distracting　little　bow　in　her　hair；　or　a　bright…eyed　hostess；　smiling　a　shy　welcome　as　she　greeted　her　guest。　Nothing　of　the　sort；　for　not　a　soul　appeared　but　a　sanginary…looking　boy　asleep　under　the　current　bushes。
  〃I'm　afraid　something　has　happened。　Step　into　the　garden；　Scott；　while　I　look　up　Mrs。　Brooke；〃　said　John；　alarmed　at　the　silence　and　solitude。
  Round　the　house　he　hurried；　led　by　a　pungent　smell　of　burned　sugar；　and　Mr。　Scott　strolled　after　him；　with　a　queer　look　on　his　face。　He　paused　discreetly　at　a　distance　when　Brooke　disappeared；　but　he　could　both　see　and　hear；　and　being　a　bachelor；　enjoyed　the　prospect　mightily。
  In　the　kitchen　reigned　confusion　and　despair。　One　edition　of　jelly　was　trickled　from　pot　to　pot；　another　lay　upon　the　floor；　and　a　third　was　burning　gaily　on　the　stove。　Lotty；　with　Teutonic　phlegm；　was　calmly　eating　bread　and　currant　wine；　for　the　jelly　was　still　in　a　hopelessly　liquid　state；　while　Mrs。　Brooke；　with　her　apron　over　her　head；　sat　sobbing　dismally。
  〃My　dearest　girl；　what　is　the　matter？〃　cried　John；　rushing　in；　with　awful　visions　of　scalded　hands；　sudden　news　of　affliction；　and　secret　consternation　at　the　thought　of　the　guest　in　the　garden。
  〃Oh；　John；　I　am　so　tired　and　hot　and　cross　and　worried！　I've　been　at　it　till　I'm　all　worn　out。　Do　come　and　help　me　or　I　shall　die！〃　And　the　exhausted　housewife　cast　herself　upon　his　breast；　giving　him　a　sweet　welcome　in　every　sense　of　the　word；　for　her　pinafore　had　been　baptized　at　the　same　time　as　the　floor。
  〃What　worries　you　dear？　Has　anything　dreadful　happened？〃　asked　the　anxious　John；　tenderly　kissing　the　crown　of　the　little　cap；　which　was　all　askew。
  〃Yes；〃　sobbed　Meg　despairingly。
  〃Tell　me　quick；　then。　Don't　cry。　I　can　bear　anything　better　than　that。　Out　with　it；　love。〃　〃The。。。The　jelly　won't　jell　and　I　don't　know　what　to　do！〃
  John　Brooke　laughed　then　as　he　never　dared　to　laugh　afterward；　and　the　derisive　Scott　smiled　involuntarily　as　he　heard　the　hearty　peal；　which　put　the　finishing　stroke　to　poor　Meg's　woe。
  〃Is　that　all？　Fling　it　out　of　the　window；　and　don't　bother　any　more　about　it。　I'll　buy　you　quarts　if　you　want　it；　but　for　heaven's　sake　don't　have　hysterics；　for　I've　brought　Jack　Scott　home　to　dinner；　and。。。〃
  John　got　no　further；　for　Meg　cast　him　off；　and　clasped　her　hands　with　a　tragic　gesture　as　she　fell　into　a　chair；　exclaiming　in　a　tone　of　mingled　indignation；　reproach；　and　dismay。。。
  〃A　man　to　dinner；　and　everything　in　a　mess！　John　Brooke；　how　could　you　do　such　a　thing？〃
  〃Hush；　he's　in　the　garden！　I　forgot　the　confounded　jelly；　but　it　can't　be　helped　now；〃　said　John；　surveying　the　prospect　with　an　anxious　eye。
  〃You　ought　to　have　sent　word；　or　told　me　this　morning；　and　you　ought　to　have　remembered　how　busy　I　was；〃　continued　Meg　petulantly；　for　even　turtledoves　will　peck　when　ruffled。
  〃I　didn't　know　it　this　morning；　and　there　was　no　time　to　send　word；　for　I　met　him　on　the　way　out。　I　never　thought　of　asking　leave；　when　you