ting. Better'n novels, if folks only knew
it."

"My, yes," Cora agreed. "And French. We could take up French, evenings.
I've always wanted to study French. They say if you know French you can
travel anywhere. It's all in the accent; and goodness knows I'm quick
at picking up things like that."

"Yeh," Ray had said, a little hollowly, "yeh, French. Sure."

But, somehow, these literary evenings never did materialize. It may have
been a matter of getting the books. You could borrow them from the
public library, but that made you feel so hurried. History was something
you wanted to take your time over. Then, too, the books you wanted never
were in. You could buy them. But buying books like that! Cora showed her
first real display of temper. Why, they came in sets and cost as much as
twelve or fifteen dollars. Just for books! The literary evenings
degenerated into Ray's thorough scanning of the evening paper, followed
by Cora's skimming of the crumpled sheets that carried the department
store ads, the society column, and the theatrical news. Raymond began to
use the sixth room--the unused bedroom--as a workshop. He had perfected
the spectacle contrivance and had made the mistake of selling his rights
to it. He got a good sum for it.

"But I'll never do that again," he said, grimly. "Somebody'll make a
fortune on that thing." He had unwisely told Cora of this transaction.
She never forgave him for it. On the day he received the money for it he
had brought her home a fur set of baum marten. He thought the stripe in
it beautiful. There was a neckpiece known as a stole, and a large muff.

"Oh, honey!" Cora had cried. "Aren't you _fun_-ny!" She often said that,
always with the same accent. "Aren't you _fun_-ny!"

"What's the matter?"

"Why didn't you let me pick it out? They're wearing Persian lamb sets."

"Oh. Well, maybe the feller'll change it. It's all paid for, but maybe
he'll change it."

"Do you mind? It may cost a little bit more. You don't mind my changing
it though, do you?"

"No. No-o-o-o! Not a bit."

They had never furnished the unused bedroom as a bedroom. When they
moved out of the flat at Racine and Sunnyside into one of those new
four-room apartments on Glengyle the movers found only a long rough
work-table and a green-shaded lamp in that sixth room. Ray's delicate
tools and implements were hard put to it to find a resting place in the
new four-room apartment. Sometimes Ray worked in the bathroom. He