"Yes," I says, "and they was just as anxious to catch it as if it'd been the leprosy."
"Never mind," says the Missus. "If he wants to be alone with her it's a good sign."
"I can't eat a sign," says I.
"We'll stop at The Ideal and have a little supper of our own," she says.
"We won't," says I.
"Why not?" says the Missus.
"Because," I says, "they's exactly thirty-five cents in my pocket. And offerin' my stomach seventeen and a half cents' worth o' food now would be just about like sendin' one blank cartridge to the Russian army."
"I think they's some crackers in the house," she says.
"Prob'ly," says I. "We're usually that way—overstocked. You don't seem to realize that our household goods is only insured for a thousand."