"You've no idea how jolly easy it was, Babseley. There was a dressing case I know Bea will keep--it brought me a cool hundred commission--it had just come in. I plunged and bought two altar scarfs she can use for her reading stand--she likes such things, besides all the bona-fide orders. I've been working for fair--and I've made over a thousand dollars." Trudy kissed Bubseley between his pale little eyes. "You Lamb! Sure you won't have to give it back or that they will tell?" "Of course not! They'd give their own selves away. That's the way such things are always done, y'know. I've an idea that I'll go in seriously for the business by and by. I don't feel any compunction; I'm entitled to every cent of it; in fact, I call it cheap for Bea at a thousand." "But will they really pay you?" Trudy was skeptical. It seemed such a prodigious amount for buying a few trifles. "The Constantine credit is like the Bank of England. I'll have my money and we'll make our getaway before Bea arrives in town." "Why?" Trudy did not approve of this. The contrast between her marriage and the Gorgeous Girl's wedding rankled. Gay hesitated. "I want to go to New York and see concert managers and father's friends," he evaded. "Then we'll visit my sister in Connecticut as long as she'll have us. And when we come back--well, you'll--you'll know the smart ways better." He was a trifle afraid of Trudy and he did not know how best to advise her that her slips in speech and manners would be more easily remedied by setting her an example of the correct thing than by staying in Hanover and leading a cat-and-dog life, getting nowhere at all. Trudy kissed him again. "Hurrah for the eternal frolic!" she said, adding: "But we'll know Beatrice and Steve socially, won't we?" "Of course!" he said, in helpless concession. His one-cylinder little brain had not yet reckoned with Trudy's determination to conquer the social arena. He knew he must have her to help him; his efforts with creditors were failing sadly of late. Besides, he admired her tremendously; he felt like a rake and a deuce of a chap when they went out together, and he relied on her vivacity--Pep had been his pet name for her before he originated Babseley--to carry him through. It really would be quite an easy matter to live on nothing a year until something turned up. The graft from Beatrice was the open sesame, however, and the Gorgeous Girl would never suspect the truth. "Keep right on working hard," Trudy said, fondly, as they kissed each other good-night. "I'll tell Mary to-morrow. I want to leave my big trunk here because we might want to stay here for a few days when we come back." "Never!"--masterfully pointing his cane at the moon. "My wife is going to have her own apartment. One of father's friends has built several apartment houses and he'll be sure to let me in." "Are we dreaming?" Trudy asked, thinking of how indebted she was to Beatrice O'Valley, yet how she envied and hated her.