at her.

"Why," says I, "I thought that when a girl got married she--she----"

"I know," says she. "You think you thought. So did I. But you really
didn't think about it at all, and I'm only beginning to. Of course, you
have your work. I suppose it's interesting, too. Isn't it?"

"It's a great game," says I. "Specially these days, when doin' any kind
of business is about as substantial as jugglin' six china plates while
you're balanced on top of two chairs and a kitchen table. Honest, we got
deals enough in the air to make you dizzy followin' 'em. If they all go
through we'll stand to cut a melon that would pay off the national debt.
If they should all go wrong--well, it would be some smash, believe me."

Vee's gray eyes light up sudden.

"Why couldn't you tell me all about some of these deals," she says, "so
that I could be in it too? Why couldn't I help?"

"Maybe you could," says I, "if you understood all the fine points."

"Couldn't I learn?" demands Vee.

"Well," says I, "I've been right in the thick of it for quite some
years. If you could pick up in a week or so what it's taken me years
to----"

"I see," cuts in Vee. "I suppose you're right, too. But I'm sure that I
should like to be in business. It must be fascinating, all that planning
and scheming. It must make life so interesting."

I nods. "It does," says I.

"Then why shouldn't I try something of the kind, all my very own?" she
asks. "Oh, in a small way, at first?"

More gasps from me. This was gettin' serious.

"You don't mean margin dabblin' at one of them parlor bucket-shops, do
you?" I demands.

"No fear," says Vee. "I think gambling is just plain stupid. I mean some
sort of legitimate business--buying and selling things."

"Oh!" says I. "Like real estate, or imported hats, or somebody's
home-made candy? Or maybe you mean startin' one of them Blue Goose
novelty shops down in Greenwich Village. I'll tell you. Why not
manufacture left-handed collar buttons for the south-paw trade? There's
a field."

Vee don't say any more. In fact, three or four days goes by without her
mentionin' anything about havin' nothing to do, and I'd 'most forgot
this batty talk of ours.

And then, one afternoon when I comes home after a busy day at doin'
nothing much and tryin' to look important over it, she greets me with a
flyin' tackle and drags me over to a big wingchair by the window.

"What do you think, Torchy?" says she. "I've found something!"

"T