"But what am I to do?"
"Call out the reserves," I said.
"But they're such a mixed lot," said Joyce. "I should be ashamed of having anyone to tea with them."
"Better," I said, "than having the bailiffs to dine and sleep."
"Ugh," said Joyce, "is it as bad as that?"
"It is," I said, "and all because Short won't send that cheque on account of royalties till I've made some alterations to the last chapter. Our landlord is becoming unmanageable. Besides," I said, "I hear there have been one or two burglaries in this road lately, so the silver will be safer."
"Look here," said Joyce, who declined to be scared by the idea of burglars. "To-day's Tuesday. Wait till Thursday. Something's sure to turn up."
"Yes," I said, "a bailiff. But I'll wait till to-morrow if you like."
"Good. And in the meantime we'll both think hard of some other way."
That evening at dinner Joyce said, "I have an idea, but I'm not going to tell you yet. Have you thought of anything?"