“I want some more money now,” said Daisy. “I have to buy a trousseau.”
“I hoped you’d feel that way!” said Pete enthusiastically. “Here goes! And we have a reunion while the pennies roll in.”
The demonstrator began to cluck and clatter with bills instead of quarters on the plate. Once, to be sure, it suspended all operations and the refrigeration unit purred busily for a time. Then it resumed its self-satisfied delving into the immediate past.
“I haven’t been making any definite plans,” explained Pete, “until I talked to you. Just getting things in line. But I’ve looked after Arthur carefully. You know how he loves cigarettes. He eats them, and though it may be eccentric in a kangaroo, they seem to agree with him. I’ve used the demonstrator to lay up a huge supply of cigarettes for him—his favorite brand, too. And I’ve been trying to build up a bank account. I thought it would seem strange if we bought a house on Park Avenue and just casually offered a trunkful of bank notes in payment. It might look as if we’d been running a snatch racket.”
“Stupid!” said Daisy.
“What?”
“You could be pyramiding those bills like you did the quarters,” said Daisy. “Then there’d be lots more of them!”
“Darling,” said Pete fondly, “does it matter how much you have when I have so much?”
“Yes,” said Daisy. “You might get angry with me.”
“Never!” protested Pete. Then he added reminiscently, “Before we thought of the bank note idea, Thomas and I filled up the coal bin with quarters and half dollars. They’re still there.”