The Junior earned their abiding Dislike by putting one across. He made the Fossils sit up in their padded Rocking Chairs and pay some attention to the Idiot Child. He never could hold down any Position until tried out for a Captain of Industry and then he began to Bat 450 and Field 998. After the dusty Workmen had manufactured the Product, and the Salesmen had unloaded it, and the Collectors had brought in the Dinero, then Elam had to sit at a Mahogany Desk with a Picture of Claudine in front of him, and figure how much of the hard-earned Mazuma would be doled out to his greedy Employees. Sometimes he would be compelled to fork over nearly half of the Gross, whereupon his Heart would ache and he would become Morose. In a few Years he had a lot of new Buildings, with Skylights and improved Machinery and all sorts of humane Appliances to enable the Working Force to increase the Output. As the Bank Account expanded and the Happy Couple found themselves going up, Claudine began to scan the Horizon and act restless-like. She said the Home Town was Impossible. It certainly did seem Contrary to Reason. Any Woman with a salaried Husband could bust into Society if she sang in a Choir or owned an Ice-cream Freezer. Claudine was for migrating to some high-toned Community beyond the Rising Sun, where she could sit in Marble Halls and compare Jewelry with proud Duennas of her own Station. Seeing Claudine at the corner of 8th and Central, waiting for the Open Car, one would not have suspected that she harbored Intentions on the Court Circles of Europe. One would merely have guessed that she was on her way to the Drug Store to purchase much Camphor. But she had taken a peek at the Palm Rooms and the powdered Lackeys and the Tea Riot at the Plaza, and she was panting inwardly. She wanted to hang a silver Bell around her neck and go galloping with the white-faced Thoroughbreds. It was no good trying to work up Speed on a half-mile track in the Prairie Loam. Once in a while Claudine made a bold Sashay to start something devilish, but the Fillies trained on the Farm did not seem gaited for the Grand Circuit. As for the Servant Problem, it was something ferocious. City Help could not be lured to the Tall Grass, and all the Locals had been schooled at the Railway Eating-House. Elam and Claudine had a Cook named Gusta, born somewhere near the Arctic Circle in Europe. Her fried Chicken drowned in thick Gravy came under the head of Regular Food. She could turn out Waffles as long as there was a Customer in sight. The Biscuit on which she specialized were light as Down. The Things she fixed to Eat were Fine and Dandy but she never had heard of a Cuisine. When you took her away from regular Chow and made her tackle something Casserole or En Tasse, she blew. Also there was a Maid who should have belonged to the Stevedores' Union.