"That's a sweet outlook for me, I must say," cried Fanny in dismay. "If it takes a man twenty-six years to work up to thirty, I suppose you'll be getting eighteen eleven years from the third of next January."
Jimmie looked closely at both girls. He was not quite sure if they were making fun of him. Apparently satisfied that, on the contrary, they were in full sympathy with his troubles, he said:
"I'm doing my best and no fellow can do more! That's what makes me so sore, I tell you. Here I am slaving away for fourteen a week and he spends three hundred just for his rooms. I wonder how many rooms he gets for that?"
"I think it's twelve and four baths," said Fanny.
"Four baths!" he gasped. "What in God's name can a bachelor do with four baths?"
"Is there any reason he shouldn't have them if he can pay for them?" demanded Fanny quietly.
"But what good are they to him," insisted her fiancé. "No matter how much money he has, he can't be in more than one tub at a time. I suppose he uses 'em Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday—and keeps the favorite for the special splash on Sunday."
Virginia looked at him scornfully.
"Do you realize," she exclaimed, "that Mr. Stafford has servants and that he has friends come to stay with him occasionally?"
Abashed, the young man put his hands in his pockets and began to whistle. He stood in considerable awe of Virginia.