e, and they wouldn't take it in. Or, perhaps they've
written 'Return' on the front page in blue pencil, and all over it are
little, dark, four-fingered prints, where the office pup has walked on
it."

"You seem to be speaking from experience."

"You have guessed it, fair lady, with your usual wonderful insight. Now
let's read the paper--do you know, you read much better than Joe does?"

"Really?" Ruth was inclined to be sarcastic, but there was a delicate
colour in her cheeks, which pleased his aesthetic sense.

At first, he had had an insatiable thirst for everything in the paper,
except the advertisements. The market reports were sacrificed inside
of a week, and the obituary notices, weather indications, and foreign
despatches soon followed. Later, the literary features were eliminated,
but the financial and local news died hard. By the end of June, however,
he was satisfied with the headlines.

"No, thank you, I don't want to hear about the murder," he said, in
answer to Ruth's ironical question, "nor yet the Summer styles in
sleeves. All that slop on the Woman's Page, about making home happy, is
not suited to such as I, and I'll pass."

"There's a great deal here that's very interesting," returned Ruth, "and
I doubt if I myself could have crammed more solid knowledge into one
Woman's Page. Here's a full account of a wealthy lady's Summer home, and
a description of a poor woman's garden, and eight recipes, and half a
column on how to keep a husband at home nights, and plans for making a
china closet out of an old bookcase."

"If there's anything that makes me dead tired," remarked Winfield, "it's
that homemade furniture business."

"For once, we agree," answered Ruth. "I've read about it till I'm
completely out of patience. Shirtwaist boxes from soap boxes, dressing
tables from packing boxes, couches from cots, hall lamps from old arc
light globes, and clothes hampers from barrels--all these I endured, but
the last straw was a 'transformed kitchen.'"

"Tell me about it," begged Winfield, who was enjoying himself hugely.

"The stove was to be set into the wall," began Ruth, "and surrounded
with marble and white tiling, or, if this was too expensive, it was to
be hidden from view by a screen of Japanese silk. A nice oak settle,
hand carved, which 'the young husband might make in his spare moments,'
was to be placed in front of it, and there were to be plate racks and
shelves on the walls, to hold the rare ch