ness:

"Vat is Mees Bootlonk doink down here amonkst all this tresh? Come see
our importet novelties."

And he led her to a region where the minimum price was MBBA-BDJA, which
meant that it cost 12.25 and could be safely marked down to 23.75.

She eluded him and got back to the 25-cent realm only to be apprehended
by Mr. Streckfuss, who beamed:

"Ah, nothink is here for a lady like you are. Only fine kvality suits
such a taste you got."

By almost superfeminine strength she evaded purchasing anything. She
went to other shops only to be haled to the expensive counters.
Storekeepers simply would not discuss cheap things with the
millionairess-elect.

She crept home and threw herself on her husband's mercy. He had none
and she lighted hard. It was the first of December, and in addition to
his monthly rage, Mr. Budlong was working himself up to his regular
pre-Christmas frenzy, when he always felt poor and talked poorer to
keep the family in check.

His face was a study when he had heard his wife's state of mind.
Forthwith he delivered the annual address on Christmas folly that one
hears from fathers of families all round the world at this time:

"Christmas has quit being a sign of people's affections," Mr. Budlong
thundered. "It has become a public menace. It's worse than Wall
Street. Wall Street is supposed have started as the thermometer of the
country's business and now it's gone and got so goldum big that the
thermometer is makin' the weather. When Wall Street feels muggy it's
got to rain and the sun don't dare shine without takin' a peek at the
thermometer first off.

"Christmas ain't any longer an opportunity to show good will to your
neighbors. It's a time when you got to show off before your neighbors.
You women make yourselves and us men sick the way you carry on all
through December. And the children!--they're worse'n the grown-ups.

"Old-fashioned Christmas was like old-fashioned circuses--mostly meant
for the young ones. Nowadays circuses have growed so big and so
improper that nobody would dast take a child to one, or if you do, they
get crazy notions.

"When I was a boy, if I got a drum and a tin horn I was so happy I
couldn't keep quiet. But last Christmas little Ulie Junior cried all
day because he got a 'leven dollar automobile when he wanted a
areaplane big enough to carry the cat over the barn.

"This Christmas trust business ought to be investigated by the gov'ment
and disso