At Home with the Jardines

I have never dared even inquire why our best man began calling my husband the Angel. He was with us a great deal during the first months of our marriage and he is very observing so I decided to let sleeping dogs lie. I too am observing. It is only fair to state in justice to the best man that I am a woman of emotional mountain peaks and dark deep valleys while the Angel is one vast and sunny plateau. With him rain comes in soothing showers while rain in my disposition means a soaking drenching torrent which sweeps away cattle and cottages and leaves roaring rivers in its wake. But it took Mary to discover that the smiling plateau was bedded on solid rock and had its root in infinity. Mary is my cook! Yet Mary is more than cook. She is my housekeeper mother trained nurse corporation counsel keeper of the privy purse chancellor of the exchequer fighter of exorbitant bills seamstress linen woman doctor of small ills the acme of perpetual good nature and my best friend.