y unlocked the door with a flourish. All that Trudy had considered
as really essential to the making of a home was a phonograph and a
pier glass; the rest was simple--rent a furnished place and wear out
someone else's things. The bandbox of a place with four cell-like
rooms was by turns pitiful and amusing to Mary Faithful.

"We are just starting from here," Trudy reminded her as she watched
the gray eyes flicker with humour or narrow with displeasure. "Wait
and see--we'll soon be living neighbour to the O'Valleys. Besides,
there is such an advantage in being married. You don't have to worry
for fear you'll be an----"

"Old maid," finished Mary. "Out with it! You can't frighten me. I hope
you and Gay never try changing your minds at the same time, for it
would be a squeeze."

She selected a fragile gilt chair in the tiny living room with its
imitation fireplace and row of painted imitation books in the little
bookcase. This was in case the tenants had no books of their
own--which the Vondeplosshes had not. If they possessed a library they
could easily remove the painted board and give it to the janitor for
safekeeping. There were imitation Oriental rugs and imitation-leather
chairs and imitation-mahogany furniture, plated silver, and imitations
of china and of linen were to be found in the small three-cornered
dining room, which resembled a penurious wedge of cake, Mary thought
as she tried saying something polite. The imitation extended to the
bedroom with its wall bed and built-in chiffonier and dresser of gaudy
walnut. Trudy had promptly cluttered up the last-mentioned article
with smart-looking cretonne and near-ivory toilet articles. There was
even a pathetic little wardrobe trunk they had bought for $28.75 in
New York, and Trudy had painstakingly soaked off old European hotel
labels she had found on one of Gay's father's satchels and repasted
them on the trunk to give the impression of travel and money.

The kitchen was nothing but a dark hole with a rusty range and
nondescript pots and pans. "Being in the kitchen gets me nothing, so
why bother about it?" Trudy explained, hardly opening the door. "We
have no halls or furnace to care for, and an apartment house sounds so
well when you give an address. I wish we could have afforded a front
one; it will be hard to have people climbing through the back halls. I
have put in a good supply of canned soups and vegetables and powdered
puddings, and we can save a lot on