and it got her into trouble right away."

"She--ah--couldn't keep a secret?" I asked.

"At first she could," said Cupid. "That was the cause of the first
row between her and Venus. Mother got mad as a hatter with her one
morning after breakfast because Psyche _could_ keep a secret. There
was a little affair on between Jupiter and a certain person whose name
I shall not mention, and I had charge of it. Of course, I told Psyche
all about it, and in some way known only to woman she managed to
convey to Venus the notion that she knew all about it, but couldn't
tell, and, still further, wouldn't tell. I'd gone down-town to
business, leaving everything peaceful and happy, but when I got back
to luncheon--Great Chaos, it was awful! The two ladies were not on
speaking terms, and I had to put on a fur overcoat to keep from
freezing to death in the atmosphere that had arisen between them. It
was six inches below zero--and the way those two would sniff and sneer
at each other was a caution."

"I quite understand the situation," I said, sympathetically.

"No doubt," said Cupid. "You can also possibly understand how a
quarrel between the only two women you ever loved could incapacitate
you for your duties. For ten days after that I was simply incapable of
directing the love affairs of the universe properly. Persons I'd
designed for each other were given to others, and a great deal of
unhappiness resulted. There were nine thousand six hundred and
seventy-six divorces as the result of that week's work. It's a
terrible situation for a well-meaning chap to have to decide between
his wife and his mother."