Studdiford looked at her Uncle Chester's wedding gift. She found a brush
and comb and mirror in pink celluloid, with roses painted on them,
locked with little brass hasps into a case lined with yellow silk.
"Look, Jim!" said Julia pitifully, not knowing whether to laugh or to
cry.
"Gosh!" said the doctor thoughtfully, looking over the coat he was
neatly arranging on a hanger. "I've often wondered who buys those
things!"
"I'll give it to the porter," Julia decided. "He may like it. Dear old
Chess!" And Jim grinned indulgently a few minutes later at the picture
of his beautiful little wife enslaving the old coloured porter, and
gravely discussing with him the advantages and disadvantages of his
work.
"You know, we could have our meals in here, Ju," Jim suggested. "Claude
here"--all porters were "Claude" to Jim--"would take care of us,
wouldn't you, Claude?"
"Dat I would!" said Claude with husky fervour. But Julia's face fell.
"Oh, Jim! But it would be such fun to go out to the dining-car!" she
pleaded.
Jim shouted. "All right, you baby!" he said. "You see, my wife's only a
little girl," he explained.
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