“Then the quicker we get into the right way the better.  Don’t you think so?”

“If we, are wrong, we should try to get right,” said Brainard.

“It was wrong to buy that piano.  This is your own admission.”

“Well?”

“We are right again in that respect.”

“Yes, thanks to my dear wife’s good resolution and prompt action.”

“It was wrong to take so costly a house,” said Anna.

“I couldn’t find a cheaper one that was genteel and comfortable.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t ask any thing more genteel and comfortable than Mrs. Tyler’s house.”

“That pigeon-box!”

Brainard spoke in, a tone of contempt.

“Why, George, how you talk!  It’s a perfect gem of a house, well built and well finished in every part, and big enough for a family twice as large as ours.  I think it far more comfortable than this great barn of a place, and would a thousand times rather live in it.  And then it is cheaper by a hundred and twenty dollars a year.”

A hundred and twenty dollars!  What a large sum of money.  Ah, if he had a hundred and twenty dollars in addition to the four hundred received from Anna, how happy he would be!  These were the thoughts that were flitting through the mind of Brainard at the mention of the amount that could be saved by taking a smaller house.

“Well, Anna, perhaps you are right.  Oh, dear!”

“Why do you sigh so heavily, George?” asked Mrs. Brainard, looking at her husband with some surprise.

“Because I can’t help it,” was frankly answered.

“You’ve got the money you needed?”

“Not all.”

“Why, George!  Didn’t you say that you had only four hundred dollars to pay?”

“I didn’t say only.”

“How much more?”

“The fact is, Anna, I have two hundred dollars yet to meet.”

“To-day?”

Anna’s face became troubled.

“No, not until the day after to-morrow.”

The young wife’s countenance lighted up again.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, thank Heaven, that is all.  But how the payment is to be made, is more than I can tell.”

Dinner was now announced.

“I shall have to turn financier again,” said Anna, smiling, as she drew her arm within that of her husband, and led him away to the dining-room.

“I’m a little afraid of your financiering,” returned her husband, shaking his head.  “You might sell me next as a useless piece of furniture.”

“Now, George, that is too bad,” replied Anna, looking hurt.

“I only jested, dear,” said Brainard, repairing the little wrong done to her feelings with a kiss.  “Your past efforts at financiering were admirable, and I only hope your next attempt may be as successful.”