ere, with the thermometer among the nineties
nine-tenths of the time?"

_Mrs. Fountain_: "I only know you were bragging in all your letters
about your bath and your club, and the folly of any one going away
from the cool, comfortable town in the summer. I suppose you'll say
that was to keep me from feeling badly at leaving you. When it was
only for the children's sake! I will let you take them the next time."

_Fountain_: "While you look after my office? And you think the stores
are full of Christmas things in July, I suppose."

_Mrs. Fountain_: "I never thought so; and now I hope you see the folly
of that idea. No, Clarence. We must be logical in everything. You
can't get rid of Christmas shopping at Christmas-time."

_Fountain_, shouting wrathfully: "Then I say get rid of Christmas!"

II

MR. FRANK WATKINS, MRS. FOUNTAIN, FOUNTAIN

_Watkins_, opening the door for himself and struggling into the room
with an armful of parcels: "I'm with you there, Clarence. Christmas is
at the root of Christmas shopping, and Christmas giving, and all the
rest of it. Oh, you needn't be afraid, Lucy. I didn't hear any
epithets; just caught the drift of your argument through the keyhole.
I've been kicking at the door ever since you began. Where shall I dump
these things?"

_Mrs. Fountain_: "Oh, you poor boy! Here--anywhere--on the floor--on
the sofa--on the table." She clears several spaces and helps Watkins
unload. "Clarence! I'm surprised at you. What are you thinking of?"

_Fountain_: "I'm thinking that if this goes on, I'll let somebody else
arrange the presents."

_Watkins_: "If I saw a man coming into my house with a load like this
to-night, I'd throw him into the street. But living in a ninth-story
flat like you, it might hurt him."

_Mrs. Fountain_, reading the inscriptions on the packages: "'For Benny
from his uncle Frank.' Oh, how sweet of you, Frank! And here's a kiss
for his uncle Frank." She embraces him with as little interruption as
possible. "'From Uncle Frank to Jim.' Oh, I know what that is!" She
feels the package over. "And this is for 'Susy from her aunt Sue.' Oh,
I knew she would remember her namesake. 'For Maggie. Merry Christmas
from Mrs. Watkins.' 'Bridget, with Mrs. Watkins's best wishes for a
Merry Christmas.' Both the girls! But it's like Sue; she never forgets
anybody. And what's this for Clarence? I _must_ know! Not a
bath-gown?" Undoing it: "I sim