“My own, Professor darling.”

“Excuse me,” he hastened to add.

“Certainly,” she replied, blithely.

“I hate New York,” said Jarvis.  “How long do you suppose we will have to stay?”

“I adore New York, and we will stay as long as the money holds out.”

“Would you mind stating, in round figures, how much you have?” the Professor remarked.

“I would.  I detest figures, round or oblong.  I have enough.”

“I hope you won’t get there, and then call on me for a supply, as you usually do, my dear.  I am a little short this spring.”

“You two have no confidence in me.  If you will just put your trust in Bambi, I’ll mend the fortunes of this family so you will never be able to find the patch.”

The two men laughed in spite of themselves, and the matter was dropped, but Bambi herself took the manuscript of “Success” to the stenographer, with strict orders as to a time limit; she led Jarvis, protesting, to a tailor’s, to order a suit of clothes; she restocked him in collars, shirts, and ties.  In fact, she handled the situation like a diplomat, buying the railroad tickets with a thrill of anticipation.

Jarvis made no protest at all, until the night before they were to start.  He came to her and offered her a little black notebook.

“What is this?”

“I want you to put down every cent we spend.  This is a loan, you understand.”

“It’s a gift from the gods.  Go offer libations.  I don’t want your old debit and credit book.”

He laid his hand on her shoulder, and looked into her shining eyes.

“Good little fairy,” he said, “I want to put some gold dust in the pot, too.”

“Wait until we get to the end of the rainbow.”

“Just keep a record for me.  My mind is such a sieve,” he said, offering the spurned black book.

“All right.  Give me the Black Maria.  I will ride your figures in it.”

“That was a pun.  You ought to be spanked.”

“Oh, Jarvis, isn’t it fun?” she cried to him.

“Is it?  I feel that turning salesman and approaching a manager is like marching to the block.”

“Poor old dreamer!  Suppose you stay home, and let me peddle the play.”

“Not much.  I will shoulder my own pack.”

“I feel like a Crusader myself.  I’d rather be me than anybody on earth.”

“The most extraordinary thing about you is your rapture,” he commented, seriously.

She ran away, singing “Then Longen folke to go on Pilgrimauges.”

The next day they set forth on their journey.  Bambi left lists all over the house as reminders for the Professor.  Ardelia had orders enough to manoeuvre an army.  The Professor went to the station with them, and absent-mindedly kissed Jarvis good-bye, which infuriated his victim and nearly sent Bambi into hysterics.  As the train pulled out, she leaned from the window and called, “Go home, now, Professor!” and with a mechanical jerk he turned and started off in the direction indicated.