"I wonder how they are doing back there now," said Mrs. Rawn, in spite of all, as though musing with herself. "It's evening now, and the men are just coming home from work. I wonder if Jane English, next door to us, has another baby this year. She always had, you know. And there's the young woman, Essie Hannigan, who always used to wait on the steps for her husband. And the dogs; and the babies in the street. And the little trees without very many leaves on them--why, John, I can see it all as plain as if it were right here. This house of ours here is so grand I can't understand it. How did we get it, John?--when we worked so long, so many years, and lived just like those others there? It all came at once. Have you earned all this--in a year or so? And how did you get it almost finished, before we moved up here, while we still were living in St. Louis--without either of us being here to watch the carpenters?" "I did it with _money_, Laura, that's how. If you have money you can get anything done you want; and you don't have to do it with your own hands. But don't say 'carpenters'--it was an _architect_ built this house." "It cost a _lot_ of money!" "Not so much--I've not got in over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars yet, even with most of the furnishings in." "You're always joking nowadays, John. Of course, you haven't made that much." "Well, no; that's a lot of money to take out of the investments of a beginner. I had to get accommodation for three-fourths of it." "Accommodation?--" "Well, mortgage, then--that's what they'd call it in Texas or Kelly Row. I couldn't tie up all my capital--that isn't business. But what does it amount to? My salary is a hundred thousand a year; and I'm making more than that on the side. I didn't propose to come up here, president of the International Power Company, and go to living in a six-room flat. I wanted a _house_. You see." He swept a wide gesture again. "It's not much like our little seven-room house in the brick block, is it, John?" "And you wish you were back there? That's fine, isn't it? How can I do things for you if that's the way you feel? You've never got into the game with me, Laura,--you've never helped me; I've had to do it all. Yet look what I've done in the last two or three years!" "Yes, John, I know I couldn't do much." "You didn't do _anything_! You don't do anything now! You don't try to go forward, you never _did_ try, you always hung back! You've always thought of your own selfish pleasure, Laura, and that's the trouble with you. A man busy all day with large matters, who comes home tired and worn out, looks for a little help when he gets home. What do I hear? 'I wish I was back in Kelly Row!' Fine, isn't it? I'll bet you a million dollars there isn't another woman in Chicago that would feel the way you do. You ought at least to have some sense of gratitude, it seems to me." III