For a whole week she sticks to it industrious, jottin' down studies of various parts of my map while I'm eatin' breakfast, and workin' over 'em until I come back from the office in the afternoon. Did I throw out any more comic cracks? Never a one--not even when the picture showed that my eyes toed in. All I did was pat her on the back and say she was a wonder. But say, I got so I dreaded to look at the thing. "You know your hair isn't really red," says Vee; "it--it's such an odd shade." "Sort of triple pink, eh?" says I. She squeezes out some more paints, stirs 'em vigorous, and makes another stab. This time she gets a bilious lavender with streaks of fire-box red in it. "Bother!" says she, chuckin' away the brushes. "What's the use pretending I'm an artist when I'm not? Look at that hideous mess! It's too awful for words. Take away that fire-screen, will you, Torchy?" And, with the help of a few matches and a sportin' extra, we made quite a cheerful little blaze in the coal grate. "There!" says Vee, as we watches the bonfire. "So that's over. And it's rather a relief to find out that I haven't got to be a lady artist, after all. What is more, I am positive I couldn't write a book. I'm afraid, Torchy, that I am a most every-day sort of person." "Maybe," says I, "you're one of the scarce ones that believes in home and hubby." "We-e-e-ell," says Vee, lockin' her fingers and restin' her chin on 'em thoughtful, "not precisely that type, either. My mind may not be particularly advanced, but the modified harem existence for women doesn't appeal to me. And I must confess that, with kitchenette breakfasts, dinners out, and one maid, I can't get wildly excited over a wholly domestic career. Torchy, I simply must have something to do." Me, I just sits there gawpin' at her. "Why," says I, "I thought that when a girl got married she--she----" "I know," says she. "You think you thought. So did I. But you really didn't think about it at all, and I'm only beginning to. Of course, you have your work. I suppose it's interesting, too. Isn't it?" "It's a great game," says I. "Specially these days, when doin' any kind of business is about as substantial as jugglin' six china plates while you're balanced on top of two chairs and a kitchen table. Honest, we got deals enough in the air to make you dizzy followin' 'em. If they all go through we'll stand to cut a melon that would pay off the national debt. If they should all go wrong--well, it would be some smash, believe me." Vee's gray eyes light up sudden. "Why couldn't you tell me all about some of these deals," she says, "so that I could be in it too? Why couldn't I help?" "Maybe you could," says I, "if you understood all the fine points." "Couldn't I learn?" demands Vee. "Well," says I, "I've been right in the thick of it for quite some years. If you could pick up in a week or so what it's taken me years to----"