"Fine! Fine! I've been wanting a churn ever since I got married. What's the damage?"
"But you can't want a churn, Joe; you don't keep a cow."
"No telling, Miss Peggy, I might buy a cow 'most any day." But his vacillating attention went to a battered table and he gave it a seemingly close examination. "I'll take it, Miss Peggy," he declared with a wave of his hand, "Just the thing for our front room."
"Why, Joe, Elvira has a table for the front room already."
"Can't have too much of a good thing, you know," grinned Joe. "Say I like the looks of that." Peggy's eyes followed his extended finger and she frowned. "Why, Joe, that's a coffee urn, and it wouldn't be suitable for a small family. Besides, it leaks."
"I'm bound to take home something, Miss Peggy," snickered Joe. "Nothing small about me. My pockets are pretty well lined, and you'll find me a good customer."
"Joe," said Peggy desperately, "Listen to me. You don't want any of this stuff in your pretty little home. It's not good enough."
"I guess I know what I want."
"No, Joe. You must excuse me, but to-day you don't know what you want. If you were quite yourself you'd never think of taking Elvira home a rickety table or a churn."