“Oh, I wish there was such a club in New York, so we could see it actually working,” sighed Mrs. Larry.
“There is one near New York—at Montclair, New Jersey,” said Mrs. Moore.
“Suppose we women take a run over there next week and learn what our neighbors are doing?”
CHAPTER V
“The housewife’s pocketbook can beat its owner at keeping thin.”—H. C. OF L. PROVERB NO. 5.
Mr. Larry lounged in the doorway, watching Mrs. Larry array herself for her next adventure in thrift. Lena, the young maid, similarly occupied, sat on the shirt-waist box with Larry, Junior, and his wee sister snuggling close.
“The money for the milkman is next to the sugar can,” announced Mrs. Larry, settling her hat above anxious brows. “And you may boil rice for the children’s luncheon.”
“There ain’t any, ma’am,” answered Lena.
“Oh, dear!” sighed Mrs. Larry, reaching for her veil. “I didn’t have time to go over the groceries yesterday. When you take baby out, buy a pound package at Dorlon’s.”
“Yes’m,” murmured Lena. “But he’s a robber, Dorlon is. Our grocer sells two pounds for what Dorlon charges for one.”