"Still, you understand your own end of the business, I take it," said his father, turning suddenly upon him.
"Yes, I do. I believe the firm will say I'm the square peg in the square hole."
"Then why not take a vacation, Julia?" asked the broker again.
"Harry is doing splendidly," she returned gently, "but we can't live on the salary he gets now. He needs my help for a while, yet. I'm going to be a lady of leisure some day." The broker caught the glance of confidence she sent his boy.
"I'm screwing up my courage now to strike them for more," said Harry. "It frets me worse every day to see that girl delving away, and a great strapping, hulking chap like me not able to prevent it."
His father looked gravely at the young wife. "Let him begin now," he said. "He doesn't need your apron string any longer."
"What do you mean?" asked Julia, half timidly.
"Stay here with me a while and let Harry go west. I will take you and Jewel to the seashore."
"Hurray!" cried Harry, his face radiant. "Julia, why, you won't know yourself strolling on the sands with a parasol while your poor delicate husband is toiling and moiling away in the dingy city. Good for you, father! You lift that pretty nose of hers up from the grindstone where she's held it so many years that she doesn't know anything different. Hurray, Julia!" In his enthusiasm the speaker rose and leaned over the chair of his astonished wife. "You wake up in the morning and read a novel instead of your appointment book for a while," he went on. "The Chicago women's summer clothes are all made by this time, anyway. Play lady for once and come back to me the color of mahogany. Go ahead!"
"Why, Harry, how can I? What would you do?"