Helen had been on the point of saying something of this sort to her husband, simply as a matter of self-justification, when there unexpectedly came a most delightful solution of her difficulty. It was the grocer who pointed the way. "Why don't you open an account with us, Mrs. Denby?" he asked smilingly one day, in reply to her usual excuse that she could not buy something because she did not have the money to pay for it. "An account? What's that? That wouldn't make me have any more money, would it? Father was always talking about accounts--good ones and bad ones. He kept a store, you know. But I never knew what they were, exactly. I never thought of asking. I never had to pay any attention to money at home. What is an account? How can I get one?" "Why, you give your orders as usual, but let the payment go until the end of the month," smiled the grocer. "We'll charge it--note it down, you know--then send the bill to your husband." "And I won't have to ask him for any money?" "Not to pay us." The man's lips twitched a little. "Oh, that would be just grand," she sighed longingly. "I'd like that. And it's something the way we're buying our furniture, isn't it?--installments, you know." The grocer's lips twitched again. "Er--y-yes, only we send a bill for the entire month." "And he pays it? Oh, I see. That's just grand! And he'd like it all right, wouldn't he?--because of course he'd have to pay some time, anyhow. And this way he wouldn't have to have me bothering him so much all the time asking for money. Oh, thank you. You're very kind. I think I will do that way if you don't mind." "We shall be glad to have you, Mrs. Denby. So we'll call that settled. And now you can begin right away this morning." "And can I get those canned peaches and pears and plums, and the grape jelly that I first looked at?" "Certainly--if you decide you want 'em," mumbled the grocer, throwing the last six words as a sop to his conscience which was beginning to stir unpleasantly. "Oh, yes, I want 'em," averred Helen, her eager eyes sweeping the alluringly laden shelves before her. "I wanted them all the time, you know, only I didn't have enough money to pay for them. Now it'll be all right because Burke'll pay--I mean, Mr. Denby," she corrected with a conscious blush, suddenly remembering what her husband had said the night before about her calling him "Burke" so much to strangers.