"Well," said Skinner, "there won't be any more debits, anyway. We've spent all we're _going_ to spend--and don't you forget it! I promise you that!" "We don't _need_ to spend any more," said Honey. "We have our clothes." "Yes," said Skinner, "so we have." "Cheer up, Dearie. There's one thing you forgot to put down to the credit of that dress-suit account. It has made your little wifey very, very happy!" Honey put her head on Dearie's shoulder. "For that reason," said Skinner, "and for that alone"--he winked solemnly at the wall over Honey's shoulder--"it has made _me_ very happy!" He stroked Honey's glossy hair and held her close. "No," said Honey, resuming her place at the table, which she had left in her exuberance to give Dearie a hug, and knitting her brows, "there's no way of spending any more money. We've made our original investment." "The initial cost," Dearie corrected. "We've invested in ourselves," Honey went on. "Yes, and we've bought our own bonds," Skinner added. "And they'll pay better than any old bank," cried Honey. Then quickly, "But we won't buy any more!" "There are other financial stunts besides putting money in the bank," observed Skinner. "Look at Lewis. He invested in himself." "Just as we're doing," Honey broke in. "Er--not precisely," Skinner qualified. "But his investment has already returned self-respect, social opportunity, enhanced efficiency." "And he has n't half as much brains as you have!" "I don't know about that," said Skinner, rather dubiously. "Anyhow, what he's got are live ones." Then, after a pause, "Look here, Honey, we don't need to worry. We've already invested so much. It's going to continue to bring us in good things--and it is n't going to cost us any more." "No, indeed, it isn't, Dearie. I'll see to that!" said Honey with firmness. "And I 'll see to it that you _see_ to it. That'll double cinch it," said Skinner. Honey held up a finger; then turned and listened. "That's the postman's whistle. I'll go." A moment later, she burst into the room, her face radiant. "There," she cried, throwing a large, square envelope down in front of Skinner, "you can credit your dress-suit account with that!" [Illustration: "There," she cried, "you can credit your dress-suit account with that!"] It was an invitation to a dance at the J. Smith Crawfords' on the fifteenth--just two weeks off. "I'll put it down in my little book. It is n't exactly tangible, but you can bet your life it may _lead_ to something tangible." "Tangible?" echoed Honey. "It's a social triumph!" In his fine, round hand, Skinner inscribed in the little book the following:-- _Dress-Suit Account_ _Debit_ _Credit_ One social triumph. He passed the record over for Honey's approval.