“Why? Don't the books balance?”
“They balance all right. That's what's kicked me over. If they're true—course they can't be, but IF they are—we've spent close to five thousand dollars since we made this town.”
“Indeed! Well?”
“WELL! Five thousand dollars! I'm sayin' five THOUSAND; do you understand?”
“I understand. I'm not surprised. Living as we do, and moving in the—in the best society as we have, the expense is large, naturally. You must expect that.”
“Expect! Gertie Baker Dott, STOP talkin' that way! Our income, not countin' what the store at Trumet is fetchin' in, ain't over six thousand at the outside. Six thousand a YEAR, that is. And we've got rid of five thousand in a few months! We've got a thousand or so to live the rest of this year on. One thousand—”
“Hush, Daddy! Don't shout and wave your arms. We shall have to use a part of the principal, I presume.”
“Part of the prin—Oh, my soul and body! Use part of it this year, and some more next year, and some more the next, and—and—Do you know where we'll be ten year from now? In the poorhouse, that's where.”
“Oh, I hope not as bad as that. And, besides, think what a beautiful time we shall have during those ten years. Just as beautiful as we have had so far; better, no doubt, for we have really only begun.”
“Ger-tie DOTT!”