Grouch would slide down in his Chair until he
was resting on his Shoulder Blades. He seemed to have a Calomel Taste
in his Mouth as he listened to the musical drip of the Mush-and-Milk.
That kind of Language went with some People, but nix for Sweeney!

The Wife of the Married Man liked the Gusher and tolerated the Grouch.

Every time the Gusher came into the Flat, he held her Hand a little
longer than necessary and looked into her Hazel Eyes and told her she
was becoming Younger and more Charming every Day. After a Woman turns
the 30 Corner, those Speeches are worth a Dollar a Word, because she
finds herself Guessing at times. Husband never was jealous. He knew
that the Gusher told every Woman the same thing, playing no Favorites.

When the Grouch came to see them, he said "How are you?" and then
began to kick on the Weather and tell about his Rheumatism. One thing
was certain. The Grouch never would break up any Happy Homes. And it
was predicted that he would never get a Wife unless he took her on a
Mortgage.

Every Husband has a few Friends who come in for hard Raps from the
Wife. And the Grouch got all that was coming to him. She used to
declare up and down that she was going to break his Plate and revoke
his License. Husband would remind her that he and the Grouch had
roomed together at College and done the Comrades Act ever since they
were Boys. He would assure her that the Grouch was a Good Fellow, but
you had to know him thirty or forty years before you found it out. He
would smooth her down and straighten out her Feathers and she would
agree to give the Grouch just one more Chance.

[Illustration: _The Grouch._]

It came about that one Year the Married Man got Gay and swam out
to where it was over his Head. In his keen Anxiety to enlarge his
Business he took on about three Tons of Liabilities. Ninety days make
but a fleeting Span when Notes are falling due. One day the Married
Man found himself hanging on the edge of the Gully, with a Choice
of jumping to the Rocks below or waiting to be Scalped. It was not
a dignified thing to do, but he had to yell for Assistance and yell
plenty.

He hot-footed to the Gusher, friend of his Youth and God-Father to
his Children. He explained that his Heels were beating a Tattoo on
the Ragged Edge of Insolvency, and unless he could raise the Wind,
it meant a Receiver over at the Works, his Credit evaporated and the
Pianola to the Hock-Shop.

The Gusher listened with Tea