"Well, where's Mollie? She's yer wife, ain't she?" asked Mrs. Cook. "Naw, Tom Ellen's got her now; he took her while I was doing a two-year contract fer the State." "But it's wrong," burst out Jimmie. "Mr. Morton says so." "To h--l with Morton!" said Hathnit. "Now look here, the high-tone guys do that right along, only they spends their good money fer lawyer's licenses and divorce cases. I found this mornin's Herald at the depot, and it says there was six marriage licenses and eight divorces granted in this town yisterday. Fer every five marriages in dis whole State last year there was one divorce. Der people gits married ter-day with the understanding that if they don't like each other they can get a divorce. If that's all marriage amounts to--and it is--I think a man's a blooming sucker ter blow his good money to der lawyers. In dis town a dozen lawyers lives on divorce money alone. Society, so-called, says it's right, and when they gits up deir dancin' parties they have ter git an expert to keep from invitin' hubbie number one, two and three at the same time. If the bloods kin have two or three wives by payin' some cheap lawyer their good dough, I can have two or three an' save my money fer weddin' celebrations. The women all over the country went wild about Smoot and Polly Gamy." "Yer means Pollie Gainey, that lived over Fagin's last year, don't yer?" asked Mrs. Cook. "Naw, I means jus' what I said; Polly Gamy means yer can have all kinds of wives," said Hathnit. "Now, ter my way of thinkin', Smoot has as much right ter his wives as these women has ter their husbands. If he would send his money ter some cheap lawyer he'd be O.K. ter their way of thinkin'. Smoot takes care of his kids, anyhow, but these society guys sends theirs ter the Children's Home fer the city ter care fer. There's sixty-six kids there now, and fifty-two of them are from divorced families. Dis Morton that yer crackin' up ter me is kickin' about us livin' tergether without marryin'. He says it's wrong; why don't he say somethin' ter the church members? That big guy, where Bob Evans is coachman, got a divorce from his Missus and gave her the home ter live in. He built a new house on der next block and took another woman, and she took another man. Bob says that Ralph, the kid, calls one Papa and the other Daddie. They all goes ter the same church Sunday mornin' and nothin's said. Why? 'Cause they pay der lawyer. If they're all right, I'm all right; the church stands fer it, the law stands fer it, and society stands fer it. That cheap Mission guy with his old Bible don't cut much ice against that bunch.