"Lost your key?"
"Yes."
"Don't you know that keys cost twenty-five cents apiece?"
"Sure I do."
"Well," she went on indignantly, "you want to remember that every quarter—yes, and every nickel—counts these days. You're not working for Mr. Stafford at a hundred a week now; you're a shipping clerk getting thirteen per! Not even fourteen—thirteen!"
Her husband squirmed. Shifting his feet uneasily he muttered
"You needn't rub it in."
Fanny held out her hand.
"Hand it over," she commanded.
"What?"