Much as J.L. disliked having that particular young man to dinner, it did afford the opportunity to spend some of the extra money that always collected if you didn't watch very carefully. Being forced to pay a savings tax wouldn't do his career or social position any good, and he certainly wouldn't think of putting it into a secret bank account. The Hudson river was beneath him. He would soon be home. The thought reminded him that though the family had already passed the five year mark in this house, he had still not made an appointment with his architect. Just before landing J.L. took the controls. The autopilot was supposed to land itself, but somehow he felt better doing it himself. A control on the dash opened the garage, another retracted the overhead rotors. He drove in, closed the garage door, and got out. He paused in the hall only long enough to throw his hat and top-coat into the waste receptacle. From the kitchen he heard the familiar crackling of packages being unwrapped. "Home at last," he sighed, pecking Marge, his wife, on the cheek. "What did you buy today, Honey?" It was a treat to watch the pleasure with which Marge unwrapped packages. J.L. bought most things out of a sense of duty, but Marge and Glory really enjoyed spending money, God bless them. "Oh, lots of things," Marge answered. She held a cut crystal goblet to the light watching it sparkle. "A new set of china, this exquisite stemware, and the loveliest linen tablecloth, and ... oh, and they're sending a genuine oak table for the dining room. The shop I bought it in has the cleverest service. The man who delivers the table cuts up the old one so it can be used in the fireplace. Isn't that practical?" "That _is_ clever," J.L. said. "It's a pity to waste it all on that good-for-nothing, whatever his name is." "Stringer." "What?" "That's his name, Ernest Stringer. Why is he a good-for-nothing? He does dress oddly, I admit, but Glory seems to like him." "That's exactly why I'm worried. If she asked him for dinner there's no telling what's going on. A person like that is a bad influence." J.L. said, punctuating by jabbing the air with his index finger. "Now really, Dear. You hardly know him." "I know him well enough. You are the one who claims to be such a good judge of character. Look at those glasses he wears. Why doesn't he wear disposable contact lenses like everyone else. It's positively unsanitary. And did you see that suit? I'll say he dresses oddly. That thing hasn't been in style for a month. I bet he doesn't spend half his salary." "Oh, I don't know." Marge said, abstractedly. She was admiring the floral pattern on her new china. "But do be nice to him. Don't say anything to embarrass Glory." "Oh, I'll be nice all right. I guess I know how to act. You and your daughter have trained me. And there are worse things than being embarrassed." He would have gone on, but at that moment Glory sauntered into the room.