"Yes, sir, I'll tell him that
you called."
They turned away. As they sauntered down the little brick-laid
walk, Carroll suddenly pressed close to her husband's arm.
"Jack," she begged, "I want a little house like that, for our very
own."
"We can't afford it, sweetheart."
"Not to own," she explained, "just to rent. It will be next best to
having a home of our own."
"We'd have to have a girl, dear," said Orde, "and we can't even
afford that, yet."
"A girl!" cried Carroll indignantly. "For us two!"
"You couldn't do the housework and the cooking," said Orde. "You've
never done such a thing in your life, and I won't have my little
girl slaving."
"It won't be slaving, it will be fun--just like play-housekeeping,"
protested Carroll. "And I've got to learn some time. I was brought
up most absurdly, and I realise it now."
"We'll see," said Orde vaguely.
The subject was dropped for the time being. Later Carroll brought
it up again. She was armed with several sheets of hotel stationery,
covered with figures showing how much cheaper it would be to keep
house than to board.
"You certainly make out a strong case--on paper," laughed Orde. "If
you buy a rooster and a hen, and she raises two broods, at the end
of a year you'll have twenty-six; and if they all breed--even
allowing half roosters--you'll have over three hundred; and if they
all breed, you'll have about thirty-five hundred; and if--"
"Stop! stop!" cried Carroll, covering her ears.
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