car fares, and drugs, and soap, and thread, and butter, and bread,
and meat, and salad-oil, and everything else in the world out of
that eleven-fifty!" Bert was frowning hard.

"You can't have the whole eleven-fifty," he told her reluctantly,
"I can walk one way, to Forty-Eighth Street, but I can't walk
both. I'll have to have some car fare. And my office suit has got
to be pressed about once every two weeks--"

"And newspapers!" added Nancy, dolefully. "Seven cents more!" And
they both burst into laughter. "But, Bee," she said presently,
ruffling his hair, as she sat on the arm of his chair, "really I
do not know what we will do in case of dentist's bills, or
illness, or when our clothes wear out. What do people do? Is
thirty-five too much rent, or what?"

"I'm darned if I know what they do!" Bert mused.




Chapter Five


They both were destined to learn how it was managed, and being
young and healthy and in love, they learned easily, and with much
laughter and delight. Bert's share was perhaps the easier, for
although he manfully walked to his office, polished his own shoes,
and ate a tiresome and unsatisfying lunch five days a week, he had
his reward on the sixth and seventh days, when Nancy petted and