“I don’t know that. But he can do whatever he wants down town. And he’d show you how to make a lot of money if I asked him to.” Then Mrs. Winnie added, quickly, “I mean it—he could do it, really.”
“I haven’t the least doubt of it,” responded Montague.
“And what’s more,” she went on, “you don’t want to be shy about taking advantage of the opportunities that come to you. You’ll find you won’t get along in New York unless you go right in and grab what you can. People will be quick enough to take advantage of you.”
“They have all been very kind to me so far,” said he. “But when I get ready for business, I’ll harden my heart.”
Mrs. Winnie sat lost in meditation. “I think business is dreadful,” she said. “So much hard work and worry! Why can’t men learn to get along without it?”
“There are bills that have to be paid,” Montague replied.
“It’s our dreadfully extravagant way of life,” exclaimed the other. “Sometimes I wish I had never had any money in my life.”
“You would soon tire of it,” said he. “You would miss this house.”
“I should not miss it a bit,” said Mrs. Winnie, promptly. “That is really the truth—I don’t care for this sort of thing at all. I’d like to live simply, and without so many cares and responsibilities. And some day I’m going to do it, too—I really am. I’m going to get myself a little farm, away off somewhere in the country. And I’m going there to live and raise chickens and vegetables, and have my own flower-gardens, that I can take care of myself. It will all be plain and simple—” and then Mrs. Winnie stopped short, exclaiming, “You are laughing at me!”
“Not at all!” said Montague. “But I couldn’t help thinking about the newspaper reporters—”