"Bill," said his wife, "this ain't no time for to be smart! If you have anything to say, I wish to goodness you'd say it!" Bill half opened his eyes and glanced at her. "Millie ain't goin' back to that tailor-made lawyer's office," he said. "Daddy, please!" said Millie, flushing. "You mustn't make fun of Mr. Thomas when--" "All right, Millie," he stopped her, resting his thin hand on her brown hair for an instant. "I wouldn't say nothin' as would hurt you. But you won't have to go back, my dear--not unless you really want to leave us. I got an idea, mother--that's why I was late gettin' home. Ideas take time, 'specially when they're good ones! I got a good one what'll fix this whole business!" Bill stuck his thumbs in his faded old shirt comically. Even slumped down in his chair as he was, the suggestion of a harmless swagger was in his manner--the easy swagger of one who, hitherto unconsidered, has astonished the skeptics by giving birth to an idea and solving a problem. There was something about Bill that suppressed the gentle but none the less amused smile that was dimpling Millie's cheeks. "Out with it, daddy!" she demanded, restraining a desire to pull his ear. "If Lem Townsend is so anxious to help us," he stated, "he can arrange all the details for you, mother. I 'ain't got time for details--that's what I told Grant once, when we was havin' supper before Petersburg. Got enough to do with the idea. Lem can put the ads. in them Reno papers, an' hire the maids for you, an' things like that." Then Bill suddenly stopped, hugely enjoying the mystification of his two listeners. His wife sat up. "Bill Jones," she said, "you been drinking again down to town, that's what I think!" "Go on, daddy!" Millie encouraged, putting her hand on his arm. "I feel that you've thought of something! Tell us!" Ignoring his wife's accusation, Bill gave Millie a grateful glance and resumed, in his slow drawl: