the cheapest, I say. Tell you what I'll do, Joe,"--this with a burst of
philanthropic impulsiveness and a confidential lowering of
voice,--"seein's it's you, and I wouldn't do it for anybody else, I'll
reduce it to five cents. Only,"--here his voice became impressively
solemn,--"only you mustn't ever tell how much you really did pay."

"Sewed, lined, and laid--of course that's included," he said, after Joe
and Genevieve had conferred together and announced their decision.

"And the little nest, eh?" he queried. "When do you spread your wings
and fly away? To-morrow! So soon? Beautiful! Beautiful!"

He rolled his eyes ecstatically for a moment, then beamed upon them with
a fatherly air.

Joe had replied sturdily enough, and Genevieve had blushed prettily; but
both felt that it was not exactly proper. Not alone because of the
privacy and holiness of the subject, but because of what might have been
prudery in the middle class, but which in them was the modesty and
reticence found in individuals of the working class when they strive
after clean living and morality.

Mr. Clausen accompanied them to the elevator, all smiles, patronage, and
beneficence, while the clerks turned their heads to follow Joe's
retreating figure.

"And to-night, Joe?" Mr. Clausen asked anxiously, as they waited at the
shaft. "How do you feel? Think you'll do him?"

"Sure," Joe answered. "Never felt better in my life."