"All right, then, Mrs. Penny, we'll settle up. Speaking of settling up, I guess the missus wants her Monday-morning allowance, doesn't she?" "I--guess--so." He placed three already counted out five-dollar bills on the dresser, weighting them down with a silver-back mirror. "See if you can't make it last this week, Lilly. You watch Mother Becker market and you'll come out all right." "Oh, I can't pick around raw meat the way mamma does. It makes me sick." "Housekeeping may seem a little strange at first, but I'm not afraid my little wife is going to let any of them get ahead of her." "Whoever wants it, can have that honor." "What?" "Nothing." "What's the program for to-day, Lilly?" "Oh, I don't know." "I'm going to send Joe out from the store to-day with some washers for the kitchen faucets and some poultry netting for a chicken yard. I'll potter around this evening and build one behind the woodshed. Chickens give a place a right homey touch." "And send out a man from Knatt's to fix the piano. They delivered it with a middle C that sticks." "Yes, and I'll send a can of Killbug out with the wire. I noticed a cockroach run over the ice box last night. You must watch that a little, even in a new house." "Ugh!" "I hope I'm not getting a cold. I feel kind of that way. Mother Becker fixed me up fine with that wet cloth around my neck last time. I'll try it to-night." "Come," she said, "breakfast is ready." They descended to the little oak dining room, quite a glitter of new cut glass on the sideboard and the round table white and immaculately spread. There was a little maidservant, Lena Obendorfer, the fifteen-year-old daughter of the Kemble washerwoman, shy and red rims about her eyes from secret tears of homesickness. "Why, Lena, the breakfast table looks lovely; and don't forget, dearie, Mr. Penny takes three eggs in the morning, and he doesn't like his rolls heated." The child, her poor flat face pock-marked, fluttered into service. Lilly regarded her husband through his meal, elbows on table, cheek in her palm. He ate the three two-minute eggs with gusto, alternating with deep draughts of coffee, and crisp little ribbons of bacon made into a sandwich between his rolls. "This is certainly delicious bacon." "Mamma sent a whole one over yesterday." "I like it lean. Always buy it with plenty of dark streaks through it. Don't you like it lean?" Silence. "Can't you eat, Lilly? That's a shame." "Too hot." "Poor girlie!" "Lena, bring Mr. Penny some more bacon." "Certainly delicious. I like it lean." She watched his temples quiver to the motion of his jaws, her unspeakable depression tightening up her tonsils and the very pit of her scared and empty. "Albert--" "Um-hum!" "I--What if you should find that I--I'm not--not--" "What?" "Not right--here. Not the--wife for you." He leaned over to pinch her cheek, waggling it softly and masticating well before he spoke.