to do is go ahead and enjoy yourself, free and frolicsome. So
when this imposin' head waitress with the forty-eight bust and the grand
duchess air bears down on us majestic, and inquires dignified, "Two,
sir?" I don't let it stagger me.

"Two'll be enough," says I. "But whisper. Seein' as we're only startin'
in on the twosome breakfast game, maybe you could find something nice
and cheerful by a window. Eh?"

It's some breakfast. M-m-m-m! Cute little country sausages, buckwheat
cakes that would melt in your mouth, with strained honey to go on 'em.

"Have a fourth buckwheat," says I.

"No fair, keeping count!" says Vee. "I looked the other way when you
took your fifth."

Honest, I can't see where we acted much different than we did before.
Somehow, we always could find things to giggle over. We sure had a good
time takin' our first after-breakfast stroll together down Main Street,
Vee in her silver-fox furs and me in my new mink-lined overcoat that Mr.
Robert had wished on me casual just before we left.

"Cunnin' little town, eh?" says I. "Looks like a birthday cake."

"Or a Christmas card," says Vee. "Look at this old door with the brass
knocker and the green fan-light above. Isn't that Colonial, though?"

"It's an old-timer, all right," says I. "Hello! Here's a place worth
rememberin'--the Woman's Exchange. Now I'll know where to go in case I
should want to swap you off."

For which crack I gets shoved into a snowdrift.

It ain't until afternoon that I'm struck with the fact that neither of
us knows a soul up here. Course, the landlord nods pleasant to me, and
I'd talked to the young room clerk a bit, and the bell-hops had all
smiled friendly, specially them I'd fed quarters to. But by then I was
feelin' sort of folksy, so I begun takin' notice of the other guests and
plannin' who I should get chummy with first.

I drifts over by the fireplace, where two substantial old boys are
toastin' their toes and smokin' their cigars.

"Snappy brand of weather they pass out up here, eh?" I throws off,
pullin' up a rocker.

They turn, sort of surprised, and give me the once-over deliberate,
after which one of them, a gent with juttin' eyebrows, clears his throat
and remarks, "Quite bracing, indeed."

Then he hitches around until I'm well out of view, and says to the
other:

"As I was observing, an immediate readjustment of international trade
balances is inevitable. European bankers are preparing for it. We are