"That trunk key you've been lookin' for?" says I.
"No," says she. "A business opening."
"A slot-machine to sell fudge?" says I.
"You'd never guess," says she.
"Then shoot it," says I.
"I'm going to open a shoe-shinery," she announces.
"Wha-a-a-at!" says I.
"Only I'm not going to call it that," she goes on. "It isn't to be a 'parlor,' either, nor a 'shine shop.' It's to be just a 'Boots.' Right here in the building. I've leased part of the basement. See?" And she waves a paper at me.
"Quit your kiddin'," says I.
But she insists that it's so. Sure enough, that's the way the lease reads.