"Oh, we'll have to look after you, Shirley! I've got a dozen likely chaps down at the works—Americans, too. Real men, every one of them—men who work with their hands."
"The works?" Shirley looked in astonishment, first at one, and then the other. "Oh, the selfish jades we've been—Miriam and I have talked about every man in creation but you! Aren't you ashamed, Miriam? I am!" She drew up her chair, and settling herself back comfortably into it, turned to Challoner and went on excitedly:—"Now tell me about yourself."
"We've saved five hundred dollars," began Miriam, answering for him. "And——"
"Five hundred dollars!" interrupted Shirley, entering completely into the spirit of things. "How did you ever do it?"
Miriam turned to Challoner, and said with a smile:—
"Laurie, do you remember the day when we had saved our first ten dollars?"
"Shall I ever forget it," returned her husband, devoutly; and turning to Shirley: "The fact is, somehow or other I've made good—and done it in five years, too! But you don't know what it means to me, to us.... When Miriam went to the hospital that day, I started in—one dollar and a half a day——"
"Yes?" said Shirley eagerly. "What kind of work?"
"Tell her about your invention, Laurie," suggested his young wife with pride.
Not waiting for a second invitation, Challoner immediately launched forth on his favourite topic, Shirley listening with great interest. But toward the close, he said something about concrete and frauds which instantly caused her to interrupt him.