uck a dead level. One month business
would be pretty good; the next he would make almost nothing. But the
average was always the same, and always a little less than they spent.
The note at Jim Blaisdell's bank and the little loans from Dick Holden
kept slowly piling up, and though neither Jim nor Dick ever dunned him,
the thought of his debts weighed heavily on David's heart.

It was worse than if they had had a steady income. They were kept
zigzagging between hope and disappointment, and when they had money, it
was often spent foolishly. David did his best to save. His suits and
overcoat had shiny spots. He smoked only cheap tobacco that burned his
tongue. He gave up even the dairy lunch, saying that two meals a day
were enough for any man. He walked, rain or shine, to and from his
office, and bought no more books. But the sum of these savings seemed
pitifully small. Shirley, too, did without things during the lean
months. But when a fee came in she could never say no to her wants.

"We must have this. We must do that," she would say.

"Dear, don't you think we'd better go slow?" he would venture.

"Oh, what's the use of having money, if not to get what we want?"

"We could use it to pay a little to Jim and--"

"Oh, let Jim and Dick wait. They can afford it. I've had to do
without so much I think I've a right to this little spree. And I
_hate_ to wait for things. If I wait, they lose all their fun."

It always ended in her having her own way. But sometimes David
wondered whether she would have lost interest in him, too, if she had
had to wait.

For he saw that another goblin had come unbidden into their home:
Discontent. He had learned to seek and always found the wistful look
with which she regarded their callers' pretty gowns or heard tales of
jolly dinners at the club. (Months ago the club had been dropped.)
And he knew that in her heart she was drawing comparisons.

Once she said, "It wasn't like this when Maizie and I were together."
She did not guess the barb she left quivering in his heart.

Dick Holden was making no such heavy weather of it. He was even so
busy that little odds and ends of his work were turned over to David,
crusts for which the latter was as grateful as the Lazaruses always
have been. But this suggested another comparison to Shirley.

"Dick Holden gets business and makes money, and everybody says he's not
half so clever as you. How does he do it?"

"He works