Morey was a success—and so was his scheme!
To the successful man come the rewards of success. Morey arrived home one evening after a hard day’s work at the office and was alarmed to find another car parked in his drive. It was a tiny two-seater, the sort affected by top officials and the very well-to-do.
Right then and there Morey learned the first half of the embezzler’s lesson: Anything different is dangerous. He came uneasily into his own home, fearful that some high officer of the Ration Board had come to ask questions.
But Cherry was glowing. “Mr. Porfirio is a newspaper feature writer and he wants to write you up for their ‘Consumers of Distinction’ page! Morey, I couldn’t be more proud!”
“Thanks,” said Morey glumly. “Hello.”
Mr. Porfirio shook Morey’s hand warmly. “I’m not exactly from a newspaper,” he corrected. “Trans-video Press is what it is, actually. We’re a news wire service; we supply forty-seven hundred papers with news and feature material. Every one of them,” he added complacently, “on the required consumption list of Grades One through Six inclusive. We have a Sunday supplement self-help feature on consuming problems and we like to—well, give credit where credit is due. You’ve established an enviable record, Mr. Fry. We’d like to tell our readers about it.”
“Urn,” said Morey. “Let’s go in the drawing room.”
“Oh, no!” Cherry said firmly. “I want to hear this. He’s so modest, Mr. Porfirio, you’d really never know what kind of a man he is just to listen to him talk. Why, my goodness, I’m his wife and I swear I don’t know how he does all the consuming he does. He simply—”
“Have a drink, Mr. Porfirio,” Morey said, against all etiquette. “Rye? Scotch? Bourbon? Gin-and-tonic? Brandy Alexander? Dry Manna—I mean what would you like?” He became conscious that he was babbling like a fool.
“Anything,” said the newsman. “Rye is fine. Now, Mr. Fry, I notice you’ve fixed up your place very attractively here and your wife says that your country home is just as nice. As soon as I came in, I said to myself, ‘Beautiful home. Hardly a stick of furniture that isn’t absolutely necessary. Might be a Grade Six or Seven.’ And Mrs. Fry says the other place is even barer.”