TIPPY. Oh, that's right. I'll have to go myself. KEN. He also forgot a dinner has to be bought before it can be cooked. LAURA. Something tells me I'd better look into this menu. TIPPY. I'm having tomato soup, and I'm going to make bran muffins. And there are pork chops. LAURA. Pork chops in 1935! That's extravagant. MARTIN. He buys them to get the bones for his doggies. The meat we get is a by-product. LAURA. O. K. Ken adores shoulder chops.--But what's the salad? TIPPY. That's just where I stalled. I haven't even bought the makings. KEN. [_Taking Itzy's leash._] If you people are going to talk salad, tell me where this dog lives. LAURA. No. I see I'll have to go. No salad has been provided and I don't trust men on salad. Martin, you know where Itzy lives, so come along and carry the packages. And Tippy, you go light your oven and mix your muffins. [LAURA _and_ MARTIN _go with the dog._] TIPPY. Laura's a peach. KEN. You don't know how much of a peach. TIPPY. I'm glad you two've got settled so well. KEN. I was a fool not to do it before. TIPPY. Sure you were. KEN. The trouble was, I'd lost my bearings. Thought I'd never get out of the woods. TIPPY. The job look pretty good? KEN. I guess so. TIPPY. You don't sound so sure. KEN. Oh sure, the job's all right. TIPPY. Prescott a tough customer? KEN. No. That's just the trouble. He's a queer duck. Half the time I feel he doesn't know I'm there. TIPPY. He hired you, didn't he? He pays you, doesn't he? He knows you're there! KEN. Of course he isn't ready to use my stuff yet. Just wants me to work it up. TIPPY. Sure. That's what he hired you for. KEN. But, damn it, I've been there several months and ... [_Laughs._] Maybe the trouble is that I don't have to take orders from anybody; maybe it's that I don't have to fuss and sweat over details the way the others do. Maybe that's the trouble. I can work on my plans in my own sweet way. Maybe that's it. Maybe I'm unhappy because Prescott doesn't bawl hell out of me the way he does the others. TIPPY. That's it. The trouble is you've got it too good! KEN. That's right. Maybe I've got it too good, [TED _enters. Now has new hat, brown; better taste, better fit, and more becoming. He and_ KEN _greet each other with a little restraint._] Hello, Ted. TED. Hello. You look fine. Married life must agree with you. KEN. Nothing like it. Married life, _and work_. TED. Oh yes, work. You do have a job, haven't you? KEN. Yes, you bet I have. TED. And a job's a job, even if it falls from the moon. TIPPY. The moon? Are there capitalists on the moon? TED. Do all jobs come from capitalists? TIPPY. Don't they? TED. Ask Martin. He says there are no capitalists in Russia but lots of jobs. KEN. God, are you going Red, Ted? TIPPY. Ted's not going anywhere, but I'm going to the kitchen to start the muffins. The rest of the dinner is on the way, Ted. So lick your chops for a feast.