V

In our mail box the next mornin’ they was a notice that our first week was up and all we owed was one hundred and forty-six dollars and fifty cents. The bill for room and meals was one hundred and nineteen dollars. The rest was for gettin’ clo’es pressed and keepin’ the locker damp.

I didn’t have no appetite for breakfast. I told the Wife I’d wait up in the room and for her to come when she got through. When she blew in I had my speech prepared.

“Look here,” I says; “this is our eighth day in Palm Beach society. You’re on speakin’ terms with a maid and I’ve got acquainted with half a dozen o’ the male hired help. It’s cost us about a hundred and sixty-five dollars, includin’ them private rooms down to the Casino and our Afromobile trips, and this and that. You know a whole lot o’ swell people by sight, but you can’t talk to ’em. It’d be just as much satisfaction and hundreds o’ dollars cheaper to look up their names in the telephone directory at home; then phone to ’em and, when you got ’em, tell ’em it was the wrong number. That way, you’d get ’em to speak to you at least.

“As for sport,” I says, “we don’t play golf and we don’t play tennis and we don’t swim. We go through the same program o’ doin’ nothin’ every day. We dance, but we don’t never change partners. For twelve dollars I could buy a phonograph up home and I and you could trot round the livin’ room all evenin’ without no danger o’ havin’ some o’ them fancy birds cave our shins in. And we could have twice as much liquid refreshments up there at about a twentieth the cost.

“That Gould I met on the train comin’ down,” I says, “was a even bigger liar than I give him credit for. He says that when he was here people