"And now," she continued, "the next thing to consider is how much money we can afford not to spend on the farm." At that moment I had mentally unloaded a car of farm implements, resplendent in green and red paint, with the same feeling of delightful excitement that accompanies the unpacking of a Noah's ark. In fact, I had them arranged on the station platform and was directing my hired men how to load the wagons. "Can afford not to spend," I repeated abstractedly. There was silence. When I awoke from my reverie I discovered that my wife was gazing at me with a curious expression, her lips tightly compressed. I stood to attention at once. "Yes, Marion," I went on briskly. "I was just thinking about that. I was just calculating how many implements we could buy." "Indeed? And have you decided whether you would rather go in for horse-raising or thoroughbred cattle?" "No, I haven't got that far; but I think a herd of Jerseys would do to start with, then----" "Then you _are_ like other men! I wonder if any city man ever farmed without losing his common-sense. Can't you see, Henry, that we'd be hopelessly in debt if we started in that way? Why, even if we were wealthy the money would soon be all gone at that rate of spending. How many otherwise level-headed men do you know who have squandered fortunes in farming for pleasure?" "Well, there's Judge Davis, and old Hamilton, and--oh, lots of them--but, you see, they didn't know how to manage, and I would profit by their mistakes. I wouldn't borrow five hundred dollars, for instance, to invest in Jerseys, without seeing my way clear to double the money in a year or two by selling gilt-edged butter." "Now listen, Henry," said my wife, with the indulgent yet unrelenting smile of a mother who pushes a fragile vase beyond the reach of her infant's grasp; "you're not going to borrow _one_ dollar; you're not going to have a herd of Jerseys; you're not going to buy reapers and threshing machines, horses and wagons and windmills. How much would a spade, a rake, and a hoe cost?" I gasped. "A _spade_--a _rake_!----" I began incredulously, then I smiled a smile of feeble intelligence to conceal the fact that I failed to see the point: I know what it feels like to perpetrate a pointless joke. "And a hoe," continued Marion, earnestly. "How much would they cost?" "About two dollars," I replied, in vague wonderment. "Then that settles it! You may spend two dollars in implements, but not another cent. And as for drains----" "Perhaps you would allow three for them," I interjected, with a derisive laugh. "Judge Davis spent _three thousand_ in underdraining his farm." "Then we'll do without underdrains. Do you begin to see now what I mean by deciding how much money we can afford not to spend."