e back of her magnificent
gilt chair to see if it was real gold leaf, broke in:

"While this place was being built I read in the paper that Mr.
Stafford was to pay $15,000 a year for his rooms."

Jimmie opened wide his eyes in amazement.

"Fifteen thousand a year--just for his rooms!" he exclaimed
incredulously.

He looked at Virginia as if expecting her to confirm the statement.

"Yes," insisted Fanny, "$15,000 a year."

The shipping clerk gave a low whistle.

"Why, that's nearly $300 a week!" he cried.

Fanny gave an affirmative nod, and her fiance, putting on an injured
air as if Mr. Stafford's expenses had to come out of his own pocket,
went on:

"Three hundred dollars--just for his rooms, while I slave a whole
week, from eight in the morning till six at night for a measly
fourteen." With a disgusted shrug of his shoulders he added: "I tell
you there's something rotten in this country."

Virginia looked around apprehensively. She was afraid the butler might
have heard the ejaculation, which, considering he was Mr. Stafford's
guest, was certainly inexecrable taste. Not that she was surprised. By
this time she had learned not to look to her prospective
brother-in-law for Chesterfieldian manners. Quickly she said:

"Mr. Stafford didn't get more than fourteen when he was your age. He
was poor, too."

"Yes," chimed in Fanny with a toss of her head, "and when they raised
you from twelve at Christmas you thought you were doing great. I
remember how chesty you were about it."

Jimmie grinned. In tones meant to be tender he replied:

"Only because I figured that I might be gettin' eighteen pretty soon
and then we could get married." Eying her sheepishly, he went on: "Do
we still have to wait till I get eighteen, Fanny?"

"We certainly do," she retorted promptly. "A couple simply can't live
on less than eighteen."

The shipping clerk thrust his hands in his pockets and began to stride
up and down the room. Peevishly he exclaimed:

"I know it. That's what makes me so sore when I read about
millionaires like Stafford having luxurious private yachts, giving
fifty thousand for a picture and things like that. They have so much
money they don't know what to do with it, and yet all that stands
between me and happiness is four dollars a week _and I can't get
it_."

Virginia, who was sitting on the sofa, having become interested in a
cabinet full of curios close by, looked up with a smile. Encouragingly
she sa