"You will when you visit them, all right. I warn you in advance to be
discreet." He looked at his companion with whimsical directness. "You see
it was this way. They started out together to buy things, with Margery at
the helm. She's not accustomed particularly to consider cost and went at
the job with avidity. She's methodical also, you know, and began at the
front door. In fancy she entered the reception hall, and the first need
that appealed to her was a rug. She picked out one. It's Oriental, and a
beauty: cost one hundred dollars if a cent. Next, in her mind's eye, she
noticed the bare windows--curtains were required, of course. So she
selected them. They're the real thing and two pairs--another hundred,
I'll wager. Following came three or four big leather chairs--nothing
better in town. I can fancy old Harry's heart sinking by this time; but
he didn't say a word--yet. Margery took another spurt and went on to the
living-room. In consequence another big rug--and another hundred
withdrawn from circulation. A jolly big davenport--more curtains;--and
then something happened. They told me so, but I didn't need to be told;
for it was then that Harry butted in. They were bankrupt already, and he
knew it. He simply had to call a halt. It's the funniest contrast I ever
saw, and pathetic too; for from this point on the whole house is a
nightmare. Cheap! he bought the cheapest things he could find and even
then he got scared. By the time they got through the dining-room he must
have been a nervous wreck, for the kitchen and upstairs furniture is
second-hand, every stick and frying pan; and even then--" The humor left
the speaker's face. "It's a shame to make fun of it, though, Elice.
They're going to replace it all as soon as they can."

For a moment neither said anything.

"And Margery?" suggested the girl at last.

"That's where the little tragedy crops out. You see we began the way she
had begun--at the front door. She was pleased as a boy with new boots at
the reception hall. Still cheerful over the living-room. Non-committal in
the diner. From there on Harry and I carted things upstairs and juggled
with them alone and according to our own ideas."

For the second time there was silence; then, low-voiced, came another
suggestion.

"And--Harry?"

"He's game," admiringly. "He may be thinking a lot--I've no doubt he is;
but he's not letting out a peep or making a sign. He pretended Margery
was just tired out and bun