without a frightful amount of worry and fuss about money. To just
keep out of debt, and make ends meet, is not my idea of life!"

"It's the way lots of people live--if they're lucky," Bert
submitted, picking Junior's damp crust from the floor, eyeing it
dubiously, and substituting another crust in its place.

"Well, it's all wrong!" Nancy stated positively. "There should be
a comfortable living for everyone in this world who works even
half as hard as you do--and if any one wants to work harder, let
him have the luxuries!"

"That's socialism, Nance."

She raised her pretty brows innocently.

"Is it? Well, I'm not a socialist. I guess I just don't
understand."

She knew, as the weeks went by, that there were other things she
could not understand. Toil as she might, from morning until night,
there was always something undone. It puzzled her strangely.

Other women had even harder problems, what did THEY do? Few women
had steady, clever husbands like Bert. Few had energy and
enthusiasm like hers. But she was so tired, all the time, that
even when the daily routine ran smoothly, and the marketing and
Junior's naps and meals occurred on schedule time, the result
hardly seemed worth while. She whisked through breakfast and
breakfast dishes, whisked through the baby's bath, had her house