"They aren't usually an asset."
"Yes, they are—if you spend them with your rich relations. I've got lots, but I don't think they'd like you much."
"All right," said I shortly; "keep your beastly relations. I shall go to Uncle Alfred for October. He loves me."
"That leaves November and December," she mused. "Oh, well, there's nothing else for it—we must quarrel."
"What, now?"
"No, stupid. Every October 31st, by letter. Then I'll go home to mother, and you'll stay with Uncle Alfred some more. I hope he'll like it."
"Y-e-s," I said doubtfully. "That would do it, of course. But we shan't see very much of each other that way, shall we? Still, I suppose.... Good Heavens!"
"What's the matter?"
"Phyllis, we've forgotten all about income-tax. That means about another two months to account for."
"My dear, how awful!"