ther of us
particularly like. Instead of buying a typewriter, we'll rent one for
three or four dollars a month until we have enough money to buy one. And
I'm going to have a cow and some chickens and a garden, and I'm going to
sell milk and butter and cream and fresh eggs and vegetables and chickens
and fruit to the sanitarium, and----"

"The sanitarium people must have plenty of those things."

"But not the kind I'm going to raise, nor put up as I'm going to put it
up, and we'll be raising most of our own living besides. You can write
when you feel like it, and be helping me when you don't feel like it, and
before we know it, we'll be rich. Oh, Harlan, I feel like Eve all alone in
the Garden with Adam!"

The prospect fired his imagination, for, in common with most men, a
chicken-ranch had appealed strongly to Harlan ever since he could
remember.

"Well," he began, slowly, in the tone which was always a signal of
surrender.

"Won't it be lovely," she cried ecstatically, "to have our own bossy cow
mooing in the barn, and our own chickens for Sunday dinner, and our own
milk, and butter, and cream? And I'll drive the vegetable waggon and you
can take the things in----"

"I guess not," interrupted Harlan, firmly. "If you're going to do that
sort of thing, you'll have people to do the work when I can't help you.
The idea of my wife driving a vegetable cart!"

"All right," answered Dorothy, submissively, wise enough to let small
points settle themselves and have her own way in things that really
mattered. "I've not forgotten that I promised to obey you."

A gratified smile spread over Harlan's smooth, boyish face, and,
half-fearfully, she reached into her sleeve for a handkerchief which she
had hitherto carefully concealed.

"That's not all," she smiled. "Look!"

"Twenty-three dollars," he said. "Why, where did you get that?"

"It was in my dresser. There was a false bottom in one of the small
drawers, and I took it out and found this."

"What in--" began Harlan.

"It's a present to us from Uncle Ebeneezer," she cried, her eyes sparkling
and her face aglow. "It's for a coop and chickens," she continued,
executing an intricate dance step. "Oh, Harlan, aren't you awfully glad we
came?"

Seeing her pleasure he could not help being glad, but afterward, when he
was alone, he began to wonder whether they had not inadvertently moved
into a bank.

"Might be worse places," he reflected, "for the poor and deserving