“Why, Auntie, you’re telling the ’whole story of my life and what’s my real name!’—­Sanford knows all this, and knows that he cut out the other two—­though I’m not saying they wanted to marry me.”

“It goes without saying,” and her husband gave her a gallant bow.  “But, great heavens, Eunice, if you’d married those other two—­I mean one of ’em—­either one—­you’d have been decidedly out of your element.  Hendricks, though a bully chap, is a man of impossible tastes, and Elliott is a prig—­pure and simple!  I, you see, strike a happy medium.  And, speaking of such things, are your mediums always happy, Aunt Abby?”

“How you do rattle on, Sanford!  A true medium is so absorbed in her endeavors, so wrapped up in her work, she is, of course, happy—­I suppose.  I never thought about it.”

“Well, don’t go out of your way to find out.  It isn’t of vital importance that I should know.  May I be excused, Madam Wife?  I’m called to the busy marts—­and all that sort of thing.”  Embury rose from the table, a big, tall man, graceful in his every motion, as only a trained athlete can be.  Devoted to athletics, he kept himself in the pink of condition physically, and this was no small aid to his vigorous mentality and splendid business acumen.

“Wait a minute, San,” and for the first time that morning there was a note of timidity in Eunice’s soft voice.  “Please give me a little money, won’t you?”

“Money, you grasping young person!  What do you want it for?”

“Why—­I’m going to Newark, you know—­”

“Going to Newark!  Yes, but you’re going in Hendricks’ car—­that doesn’t require a ticket, does it?”

“No—­but I—­I might want to give the chauffeur something when I get out—­”

“Nonsense!  Not Hendricks’ chauffeur.  That’s all right when you’re with formal friends or Comparative strangers—­but it would be ridiculous to tip Hendricks’ Gus!”

Embury swung into the light topcoat held by the faithful Ferdinand.

“But, dear,” and Eunice rose, and stood by her husband, “I do want a little money,” she fingered nervously the breakfast napkin she was still holding.

“What for?” was the repeated inquiry.

“Oh, you see—­I might want to do a little shopping in Newark.”

“Shop in Newark!  That’s a good one!  Why, girlie, you never want to shop outside of little old New York, and you know it.  Shop in Newark!”

Embury laughed at the very idea.

“But—­I might see something in a window that’s just what I want.”

“Then make a note of it, and buy it in New York.  You have an account at all the desirable shops here, and I never kick at the bills, do I, now?”

“No; but a woman does want a little cash with her—­”

“Oh, that, of course!  I quite subscribe to that.  But I gave you a couple of dollars yesterday.”

“Yes, but I gave one to a Red Cross collector, and the other I had to pay out for a C.O.D. charge.”