“That’s just it,” replied my mother. “That’s why I ain’t got no use for women. Look what poor managers they are. Look how they idle and waste and run into debt.” “But there’s a lot to be said against the men, too. Saloons, for instance.” “And talkin’ politics with loafers,” said my father’s wife bitterly. “I guess the trouble with men and women is they’re too human,” said I, who had inherited something of the philosopher from my father. “And, mother, a man’s got to get married--and he’s got to marry a woman.” “Yes, I suppose he has,” she grudgingly assented. “Mighty poor providers most of the men is, and mighty poor use the women make of what little the men brings home. But about you and Edny Wheatlands-- You ought to do better’n her, Godfrey. You’re caught by her looks and her style and her education. None of them things makes a good wife.” “I certainly wouldn’t marry a girl that didn’t have them--all three.” “But there’s something more,” insisted mother. “One woman can’t have everything,” said I. “No, but she can have what I mean--and she’s not much good to a man without it. If you’re set on marrying her wait till _you’re_ ready, anyhow. _She_ never will be.” “What do you mean, mother?” “Wait till you’ve got money in the savings bank. Wait till you’ve got used to having money. Then maybe you’ll be able to put a bit on a spendthrift wife even if you are crazy about her. You’re making a wrong start with her, Godfrey. You’re giving her the upper hand, and that’s bad for women like her--mighty bad.” It was from my mother that I get my ability at business. She and I often had sensible talks, and her advice started me right in the railroad office and kept me right until I knew my way. So I did not become angry at her plain speaking, but appreciated its good sense, even though I thought her prejudiced against my Edna. However, I had not the least impulse to put off the marriage. My one wish was to hasten it. Never before or since was time so leisurely. But the day dragged itself up at last, and we were married in church, at what seemed to us then enormous expense. There was a dinner afterward at which everyone ate and drank too much--a coarse and common scene which I will spare gentle reader. Edna and I went up to New York City for a Friday to Monday honeymoon. But we were back to spend Sunday night in our grand forty-dollar flat. On Monday morning I went to work again--a married man, an important person in the community.