llow-ware at each other by this time? No. We've hardly displayed
any before-breakfast dispositions yet.

Not that we confine ourselves to the coo vocabulary, or advertise any
continuous turtle-dove act. Gettin' married ain't jellied our brains, I
hope. Besides, we're busy. I've got a new gilt-edged job to fill, you
know; and Vee, she has one of her own, too.

Well, I can't say that her scheme of runnin' a Boots, Limited, has
mesmerized all New York into havin' its shoe-shinin' done out. There's
something about this cloth top and white gaiter craze that's puttin' a
crimp in her perfectly good plans. But she's doin' fairly well, and she
don't have to think up ways of killin' time.

Course, we have a few other things to think about, too. Just learnin'
how to live in New York is a merry little game all by itself. That's
one of my big surprises. I'd thought all along it was so simple.

But say, we've been gettin' wise to a few facts this last month or so,
for we've been tryin' to dope out which one of the forty-nine varieties
of New York's home-sweet-home repertoire was the kind for us. I don't
mean we've been changin' our street number, or testin' out different
four-room-and-bath combinations. The studio apartment I got at a bargain
suits first rate. It's the meal proposition.

First off, we decides gay and reckless that we'll breakfast and lunch in
and take our dinners out. That listened well and seemed easy
enough--until Vee got to huntin' up a two-handed, light-footed female
party who could boil eggs without scorchin' the shells, dish up such
things as canned salmon with cream sauce, and put a few potatoes through
the French fry process, doublin' in bed-makin' and dust-chasin' durin'
her spare time. That shouldn't call for any prize-winnin' graduate from
a cookin' college, should it?

But say, the specimens that go in for general housework in this burg are
a sad lot. I ain't goin' all through the list. I'll just touch lightly
on Bertha.

She was a cheerful soul, even when she was servin' soggy potatoes or
rappin' me in the ear with her elbow as she reached across to fill my
water glass.

"He-he! Haw-haw! Oxcuse, Mister," was Bertha's repartee for such little
breaks.

Course, I could plead with her for the umpteenth time to try pourin'
from the button hand side, but it would have been simpler to have worn a
head guard durin' meals.

And who would have the heart to put the ban on a yodel that begins in
our kit