So they entered together, and Hans greeted them both with a smile, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. But Miss Winthrop herself was decidedly embarrassed. This seemed a very intimate business to be sharing with a man. On the other hand, she did not propose to have her plans put out by a man. So she ordered half a pound of butter and a jar of milk and some cheese and some cold roast and potato salad for that night and a lamb chop for Sunday, and one or two other little things, the whole coming to eighty-five cents. "Now," he asked, when she had concluded, "what do you think _I'd_ better order?" Her cheeks were flushed, and she knew it. "I'm sure I don't know," she answered. He saw some eggs. "I might as well have a dozen eggs to start with," he began. "Is there only yourself?" she inquired. "Yes," he answered. "Then I should think a half-dozen would do." "A half-dozen," he corrected the order. Then he thought of chops. "A pound or two of chops," he ordered. "If you have eggs for breakfast, you will need chops only for dinner. Two chops will be enough." Before she was through she had done practically all his ordering for him,--because she could not bear to see waste,--and the total came to about one half what it usually cost him. He thought there must be some mistake, and insisted that Hans make a second reckoning. The total was the same. "I shall trade with you altogether after this," he informed the pleased proprietor. There were several packages, but Hans bound them together into two rather large-sized ones. With one of these in each hand, Don came out upon the street with Miss Winthrop. "I'm going home now," she announced. "There you are again!" he exclaimed. "But I must." "I suppose you think I ought to go home." "Certainly." "Look here--doesn't it seem sort of foolish to prepare two lunches in two different places. Doesn't it seem rather wasteful?" Offhand, it did. And yet there was something wrong with that argument somewhere. "It may be wasteful, but it's necessary," she replied. "Now, is it?" he asked. "Why can't we go downtown somewhere and lunch together?" "You must go home with your bundles," she said, grasping at the most obvious fact she could think of at the moment. "If that's the only difficulty, I can call a messenger," he replied instantly. "And lose all you've saved by coming 'way up here? I won't listen to it." "Then I'll go home with them and come back." "It will be too late for lunch then." "I can take a taxi and--" "No wonder your salary isn't enough if you do such things!" she interrupted. "If you had ten thousand a year, you would probably manage to spend it all." "I haven't a doubt of it," he answered cheerfully. "On the other hand, it would get me out of such predicaments as these."