The man took his hands from his pockets and waved them in a manner that would indicate entire irresponsibility. "We might end it as we did two weeks ago and keep the whole lot of them," she proposed merrily. "Well--why don't you?" he asked calmly. "James!" His face grew red with a shame-faced laugh. "Well--there are families with five children in them, and I guess we could manage it," he asserted in self-defense. She sat up and looked at him with amazement. "Surely we have money enough--and I don't know how we could spend it better," he continued rapidly; "and with plenty of help for you--there 's nothing to hinder turning ourselves into an orphan asylum if we want to," he added triumphantly. "Oh, James, could we--do you think?" she cried, her eyes shining with a growing joy. "Tommy, and Tilly, and all? Oh, we will--we will! And--and--we'll never have to choose any more, will we, James?" she finished fervently. The Elephant's Board and Keep On twelve hundred dollars a year the Wheelers had contrived to live thus far with some comforts and a few luxuries--they had been married two years. Genial, fun-loving, and hospitable, they had even entertained occasionally; but Brainerd was a modest town, and its Four Hundred was not given to lavish display. In the bank Herbert Wheeler spent long hours handling money that was not his, only to hurry home and spend other long hours over a tiny lawn and a tinier garden, where every blade of grass and every lettuce-head were marvels of grace and beauty, simply because they were his. It was June now, and the lawn and the garden were very important; but it was on a June morning that the large blue envelope came. Herbert went home that night and burst into the kitchen like a whirlwind. "Jessica, we 've got one at last," he cried. "One what?" "An automobile." Jessica sat down helplessly. In each hand she held an egg--she had been selecting two big ones for an omelet. "Herbert, are you crazy? What are you talking about?" she demanded. "About our automobile, to be sure," he retorted. "'T was Cousin John's. I heard to-day--he's left it to us." "To _us_! But we hardly knew him, and he was only a third or fourth cousin, anyway, was n't he? Why, we never even thought of going to the funeral!" "I know; but he was a queer old codger, and he took a great fancy to you when he saw you. Don't you remember? Anyhow, the deed is done." "And it's ours?--a whole automobile?" "That's what they say--and it's a three-thousand-dollar car." "Oh, Herbert!" When Jessica was pleased she clapped her hands; she clapped them now--or rather she clapped the eggs--and in the resulting disaster even the automobile was for a moment forgetten [Transcriber's note: forgotten?]. But for only a moment. "And to think how we 've wanted an automobile!" she cried, when the impromptu omelet in her lap had been banished into oblivion. "The rides we 'll have--and _we_ won't be pigs! _We 'll_ take our friends!"