"Why, Ed!" "Oh, don't 'why-Ed' me! Well, ain't you going to come and kiss me? Nice reception when a man's come home tired from a hard trip--wife so busy reading a book that she don't even get up from her chair and make him welcome in his own room that he pays for. Yes, by--" "Why, you didn't--you don't act as though--" "Yes, sure, that's right; lay it all on--" "--you wanted me to kiss you." "Well, neither would anybody if they'd had all the worries I've had, sitting there worrying on a slow, hot train that stopped at every pig-pen--yes, and on a day-coach, too, by golly! _Somebody_ in this family has got to economize!--while you sit here cool and comfortable; not a thing on your mind but your hair; not a thing to worry about except thinking how damn superior you are to your husband! Oh, sure! But I made up my mind--I thought it all out for once, and I made up my mind to one thing, you can help me out by economizing, anyway." "Oh, Ed, I don't know what you're driving at. I _haven't_ been extravagant, ever. Why, I've asked you any number of times not to spend so much money for suppers and so forth--" "Yes, sure, lay it all onto me. I'm fair game for everybody that's looking for a nice, soft, easy, safe boob to kick! Why, look there!" While she still sat marveling he pounced on the meek little five-cent bag of lemon-drops, shook it as though it were a very small kitten, and whined: "Look at this! Candy or something all the while! You never have a single cent left when I come home--candy and ice-cream sodas, and matinées, and dresses, and everything you can think of. If it ain't one thing, it's another. Well, you'll either save from now on--" "Look here! What do you mean, working off your grouch on--" "--or else you won't _have_ anything to spend, un'erstand? And when it comes down to talking about grouches I suppose you'll be real _pleased_ to know--this will be sweet news, probably, to _you_--I've been fired!" "Fired? Oh, Ed!" "Yes, fired-oh-Ed. Canned. Got the gate. Thrown out. Got the razzle-dazzle. Got the hook thrown into me. Bounced. Kiyudeled. That is, at least, I will be, as soon as I let the old man get at me, judging from the love-letters he's been sending me, inviting me to cut a switch and come out to the wood-shed with him." "Oh, Ed dear, what was the trouble?" She walked up to him, laid her hand on his shoulder. Her voice was earnest, her eyes full of pity. He patted her hand, seemed from her gentle nearness to draw comfort--not passion. He slouched over to the bed, and sat with his thick legs stuck out in front of him, his hands in his trousers pockets, while he mused: