potato for half a buck. And you get a rate of about $6 apiece on shoes if you buy two at once.”
“Could a man and wife live on sixteen a week?” he says.
“Live!” says I. “You could wallow in luxury.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so,” he says. “Marion’s father and mother was afraid that maybe I wasn’t gettin’ enough to support her.”
“Who’s Marion?” I ast him.
“The sweetest girl in the world!” he says.
“But you don’t have to support her just on that account,” says I.
“I’m goin’ to marry her,” he says.
“What ails her?” I says.
“What do you mean—what ails her?” he ast.
“Has she got a stigmatism or somethin’?” says I.
“No,” he says, “she comes from some o’ the best people. I never heard a word against any o’ them.”
“When was you figurin’ on gettin’ married to Marion?” I says.
“In April,” he says.
“Well,” says I, “maybe you’ll be drawin’ sixteen-fifty by that time, and then you’ll be on Easy Street.”
The next day he called again.
“Her mother and father’s fixed,” he says. “I told ’em what you said.”