"Are you sure?" I returned, a trifle put out.
"Of course you are a Harvard man," she went on, "but I should not say that you were very well educated."
"Simply because I had to play in the team," I snapped.
"And Muddy," said she, as sweetly as only Gladys can, "while you have a certain peculiar kind of intelligence, I should hardly say that you had brains."
"I know all that," said I. "And for that very reason I am thinking of becoming a stock broker."
"Oh, you might do that," said she pensively.
My wife was quite taken with the idea until she heard that I should have to be downtown at ten o'clock every morning and stand around on my feet till three, yelling continually. Down went her little foot, as only Gladys Mudison's can, and she declared that it was not a dignified business at all.
"You would only be a respectable auctioneer," she declared.
"But I should make a lot of money," I pleaded.
"I would rather have you do without a few things," she retorted, "than send you down to that bear-garden every day."