uestion," smiled Virginia sadly, "what
can you do about it?"

"Sure! What can you?" he repeated.

"I'll tell you what I'd do," cried Fanny, warming up. "I'd leave you
at once."

Virginia started and looked thoughtfully at her sister, as if her
words but echoed a determination that was in her own heart.

"Yes, you would!" he sneered.

"Yes, I would," she cried hotly. "I wouldn't stand for any drunken
husband. I'd leave him so quick that--that--"

She stopped abruptly, realizing what her words meant to one very dear
to her. Virginia said nothing, but rising, walked to the other side of
the room.

"That what?" demanded Jimmie.

"Nothing!" replied his wife crossly.

"You needn't worry, anyway," he continued, "I just can't stand the
stuff. Give me three drinks and next morning my head's full of Roman
candles. Huh! Not for mine, thank you!"

"I'm glad of it," said Fanny, with a sigh of relief.

Jimmie chuckled. With a side glance at his sister-in-law he exclaimed
in an undertone: "Gee! But I'd like to be here when he comes in. I
wonder what he'll say."

"He won't remember anything about it."

"Oh, that's the kind, is it--one of those convenient, witness stand,
I-have-no-recollection things, eh! Well, you take it from me, that's
the best kind to have. You can agree to any old thing and not remember
it, you can make all kinds of promises and then forget 'em. You
can--Say!"

The young man suddenly gasped and turned pale. Fanny, alarmed, started
forward, thinking he was ill.

"What's the matter?" she exclaimed, anxiously.

"Good Lord!" he cried, "suppose he should forget about my raise!"

Reassured, his wife laughed nervously. Crossly she said:

"How you frightened me!" Quickly she said: "Oh, Robert won't forget
about that."

A determined, defiant expression came into her husband's face as he
went on:

"You can just bet he won't while I have the power of speech. He won't
come that 'I--can't--recall' gag on me."

"Of course not," said Fanny soothingly.

Anxiously he continued:

"I've calculated exactly what I'd do with that extra fifty. I reckoned
that after we'd paid the chauffeur and for the gasoline and things
we'd have about twenty left, so I figured we'd be able to leave a
Hundred and Fortieth Street and move down town to a Hundred and
Twenty-fifth. Then I'd pictured old McLoughlin's face when he'd heard
I'd got another raise and what he'd look like every morning when I
drove to the office in