equently quarreled with him.

As Florinda ceased speaking Purple entered. "Hello, there, Splutter!" As
he was neatly hanging up his coat, he said to the others, "Well, the
rent will be due in four days."

"Will it?" asked Pennoyer, astounded.

"Certainly it will," responded Purple, with the air of a superior
financial man.

"My soul!" said Wrinkles.

"Oh, shut up, Purple!" said Grief. "You make me weary, coming around
here with your chin about rent. I was just getting happy."

"Well, how are we going to pay it? That's the point," said Sanderson.

Wrinkles sank deeper in his chair and played despondently on his
guitar. Grief cast a look of rage at Sanderson, and then stared at the
wall. Pennoyer said, "Well, we might borrow it from Billie Hawker."

Florinda laughed then.

"Oh," continued Pennoyer hastily, "if those Amazement people pay me when
they said they would I'll have the money."

"So you will," said Grief. "You will have money to burn. Did the
Amazement people ever pay you when they said they would? You are
wonderfully important all of a sudden, it seems to me. You talk like an
artist."

Wrinkles, too, smiled at Pennoyer. "The Eminent Magazine people wanted
Penny to hire models and make a try for them, too. It would only cost
him a stack of blues. By the time he has invested all his money he
hasn't got, and the rent is three weeks overdue, he will be able to tell
the landlord to wait seven months until the Monday morning after the day
of publication. Go ahead, Penny."

After a period of silence, Sanderson, in an obstinate manner, said,
"Well, what's to be done? The rent has got to be paid."

Wrinkles played more sad music. Grief frowned deeper. Pennoyer was
evidently searching his mind for a plan.

Florinda took the cigarette from between her lips that she might grin
with greater freedom.

"We might throw Purple out," said Grief, with an inspired air. "That
would stop all this discussion."

"You!" said Sanderson furiously. "You can't keep serious a minute. If
you didn't have us to take care of you, you wouldn't even know when they
threw you out into the street."

"Wouldn't I?" said Grief.

"Well, look here," interposed Florinda, "I'm going home unless you can
be more interesting. I am dead sorry about the rent, but I can't help
it, and----"

"Here! Sit down! Hold on, Splutter!" they shouted. Grief turned to
Sanderson: "Purple, you shut up!"

Florinda curled again on the divan and lit ano