“Well——But of course as the
Bible says, is it the Bible, at least I know I have
heard it in church and everybody admits it, it’s
proper for the little bride to take her husband’s
vessel of faith, so we all hope we shall see you at
the Baptist Church and——As I was
saying, of course I agree with Reverend Zitterel in
thinking that the great trouble with this nation today
is lack of spiritual faith—so few going
to church, and people automobiling on Sunday and heaven
knows what all. But still I do think that one
trouble is this terrible waste of money, people feeling
that they’ve got to have bath-tubs and telephones
in their houses——I heard you were
selling the old furniture cheap.”
“Yes!”
“Well—of course you know your own
mind, but I can’t help thinking, when Will’s
ma was down here keeping house for him—she
used to run in to see me, real often!—it
was good enough furniture for her. But there,
there, I mustn’t croak, I just wanted to let
you know that when you find you can’t depend
on a lot of these gadding young folks like the Haydocks
and the Dyers—and heaven only knows how
much money Juanita Haydock blows in in a year—why
then you may be glad to know that slow old Aunty Bogart
is always right there, and heaven knows——”
A portentous sigh. “—I hope
you and your husband won’t have any of the troubles,
with sickness and quarreling and wasting money and
all that so many of these young couples do have and——But
I must be running along now, dearie. It’s
been such a pleasure and——Just run
in and see me any time. I hope Will is well?
I thought he looked a wee mite peaked.”
It was twenty minutes later when Mrs. Bogart finally
oozed out of the front door. Carol ran back into
the living-room and jerked open the windows.
“That woman has left damp finger-prints in the
air,” she said.
Carol was extravagant, but at least she did not try
to clear herself of blame by going about whimpering,
“I know I’m terribly extravagant but I
don’t seem to be able to help it.”
Kennicott had never thought of giving her an allowance.
His mother had never had one! As a wage-earning
spinster Carol had asserted to her fellow librarians
that when she was married, she was going to have an
allowance and be business-like and modern. But
it was too much trouble to explain to Kennicott’s
kindly stubbornness that she was a practical housekeeper
as well as a flighty playmate. She bought a budget-plan
account book and made her budgets as exact as budgets
are likely to be when they lack budgets.
For the first month it was a honeymoon jest to beg
prettily, to confess, “I haven’t a cent
in the house, dear,” and to be told, “You’re
an extravagant little rabbit.” But the
budget book made her realize how inexact were her
finances. She became self-conscious; occasionally
she was indignant that she should always have to petition
him for the money with which to buy his food.
She caught herself criticizing his belief that, since
his joke about trying to keep her out of the poorhouse
had once been accepted as admirable humor, it should
continue to be his daily bon mot. It was a nuisance
to have to run down the street after him because she
had forgotten to ask him for money at breakfast.
