There was the hint of tears in her voice, and her chin quivered just enough to deepen the dimple that cleft it. Down went Mr. Larry’s after-dinner coffee cup, and in two strides he was round the table, throwing his arms about her. He spoke very tenderly:
“What is the matter, dearest? Are you sick?”
“No—honey—I’m just a little fool!” And now the tears flowed frankly and unchecked.
“You’re nothing of the sort, and one lemon pie—”
“It’s not the pie, Larry, it’s—it’s everything! Ever since I started to cut down our table expenses, I’ve been losing money in other ways. I can’t be in two places at once, can I?”
Mr. Larry shook his head.
“And so—when I’m chasing all over town looking for cheaper markets, things go wrong here at home. While I was picking up bargains in poultry and vegetables in the city market last Saturday, Lena broke one of my best goblets—they cost me forty-five cents each—there went all I saved on vegetables. I never let Lena wash the fine glass and china when I’m home.
“Then this afternoon I went to Mrs. Norton’s to talk about organizing a marketing club to buy in quantities, and suddenly remembered I had made no dessert. The exchange charged sixty cents for that apology for a pie. I could make the real thing for twenty.”
“You bet you could,” remarked Mr. Larry, heartily if inelegantly.
“And the cleaner charged me one dollar for cleaning baby’s coat. I’ve always done it myself with a quarter’s worth of gasoline. So here I am, trying to work out some method of reducing household expenses, but neglecting my house and cooking and wondering whether in the end I’ll have saved even a single penny.”