“Jimmy? Oh, yes, Jimmy! Forgive me. I’d forgotten him. You see, I was thinking of my Larry.” CHAPTER II “_There is nothing in high finance more excitingly uncertain than just trying to get your money’s worth_!”--H. C. OF L. PROVERB NO. 2. Mrs. Larry sat at the old mahogany secretary which had been Great-aunt Abigail’s wedding gift, her elbows planted in a litter of papers covered with figures and her despairing gaze fixed on a row of small manila envelopes. It was the second day after the lecture at the Kimbell store on “What Do You Do With Father’s Money?”. Mrs. Larry had attacked her account book and budget envelopes in a fine spirit of enthusiasm. With an intelligent knowledge of true fabric values, she would be able now to transfer from the two envelopes marked “Operating Expenses” and “Clothing,” to the one marked “Luxuries,” at least ten dollars a month. But, alas, she found that the fund for luxuries amounted to exactly one dollar and thirteen cents, while there existed no immediate need for renewing linen or clothing at the promised reduction. On the other hand, a month’s rent was due, and a dentist’s bill had arrived that very morning. Both expenses were imperative and non-reducible. She shook out the dimes, nickels and pennies from the envelope marked “Luxuries” and arranged them in a geometrical design. “It can’t be done!” she groaned, and shook a rebellious fist at the smug-looking envelopes. Then suddenly she swung round in her chair, startled by an unexpected yet strangely familiar sound. She glanced sharply at the clock. Its tick was strictly businesslike and the hands pointed to twenty minutes past two. Yet surely that had been the click of Larry’s key in the front door, and now Larry’s never-to-be-mistaken step coming down the hall. Only an emergency, very bad news or very good, would bring Larry home in the middle of a crisp autumn afternoon. Now he was in the doorway, looking quite commonplace and natural, except for a sharp frown above the eyes which usually smiled at sight of her. “Hello, little woman,” he said, drawing her close with that little air of proprietorship which never failed to thrill her, “I’m leaving for South Bethlehem at five--back Thursday--wonder if you could pack my bag while I take a nap? Head aches.” He was out of his coat and shoes with the last word. “Put in a soft shirt,” he added as he sank on the couch and reached for the rug. “Has anything happened?” asked Mrs. Larry, adjusting the rug to his feet in the way he liked best. “I should say so,” he answered drowsily. “Directors couldn’t declare any dividend this quarter. Had all of us on the carpet this morning. Seems up to me and Duggan to reduce expenses. I’ve got to cut about ten thousand dollars in my department this year. Call me at three-thirty, will you, dear?” And he was off!