“Oh, Larry, what an inviting collection of fresh green things! Do you suppose it could taste half as good as it looks? See—those are really, truly new potatoes that show pink through their skins.”
“Looks as if the hose had been turned on them.”
“And corn, lima beans, summer squash——”
“What is the thing that looks like cabbage gone to seed?”
“Kohl-rabi, silly! And cucumbers, onions, cabbage and beets. I couldn’t buy them at Dahlgren’s for less than three dollars. Yet this postcard says we can have such a hamper delivered at our door every week for one dollar and fifty cents. I think I will order one. Address Medford Demonstration Farm, Medford, Long Island.”
She reached for her pen, but her husband stretched out a detaining hand.
“Why not run down to the farm and learn all about it—in the interest of economy?”
“Because it would not be economical. It costs money to ride one hundred miles on the Long Island railroad.”
“I wasn’t thinking of a railway trip. We might go by motor. Burrows, our company lawyer, left for San Francisco Tuesday, and he told me that if I would like to use his car some Sunday or week-end, to telephone his chauffeur, who’d probably be joy-riding, if I didn’t.”
“Oh, Larry, a real motor! Just as if it was our own?”