Raspberry Jam | Page 8

"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."
"Why buy things C.O.D. when you have accounts everywhere?"
"Oh, this was something I saw advertised in the evening paper--"
"And you bought it because it was cheap! Oh, you women! Now,
Eunice, that's just a case in point. I want my wife to have everything
she wants--everything in reason, but there's no sense in throwing
money away. Now, kiss me, sweetheart, for I'm due at a directors'
meeting in two shakes--or thereabouts."
Embury snapped the fastening of his second glove, and, hat in hand,
held out his arms to his wife.

She made one more appeal.
"You're quite right, San, maybe I didn't need that C.O.D. thing. But I do
want a little chickenfeed in my purse when I go out to-day. Maybe
they'll take up a collection."
"A silver offering for the Old Ladies' Home,--eh? Well, tell 'em to
come to me and I'll sign their subscription paper! Now, good-by, Dolly
Gray! I'm off!"
With a hearty kiss on Eunice's red lips, and a gay wave of his hand to
Aunt Abby, Embury went away and Ferdinand closed the door behind
him.
"I can't stand it, Aunt Abby," Eunice exclaimed, as the butler
disappeared into the pantry; "if Sanford were a poor man it would be
different. But he's made more money this year than ever before, and yet,
he won't give me an allowance or even a little bit of ready money."
"But you have accounts," Aunt Abby said, absently, for she-was
scanning the paper now.
"Accounts! Of course, I have! But there are a thousand things one
wants cash for! You know that perfectly well. Why, when our car was
out of commission last week and I had to use a taxicab, Sanford would
give me just enough for the fare and not a cent over to fee the driver.
And lots of times I need a few dollars for charities, or some odds and
ends, and I can't have a cent to call my own! Al Hendricks may be of
coarser clay than Sanford Embury, but he wouldn' treat a wife like
that!"
"It is annoying, Eunice, but Sanford is so good to you--"
"Good to me! Why shouldn't he be? It isn't a question of goodness or of
generosity--it's just a fool whim of his, that I mustn't ask for actual cash!
I can have all the parties I want, buy all the clothes I want, get
expensive hats or knick-knacks of any sort, and have them all charged.
He's never even questioned my bills--but has his secretary pay them.

And I must have some money in my purse! And I will! I know ways to
get it, without begging it from Sanford Embury!"
Eunice's dark eyes flashed fire, and her cheeks burned scarlet, for she
was furiously angry.
"Now, now, my dear, don't take it so to heart," soothed Aunt Abby; "I'll
give you some money. I was going to make you a present, but if you'd
rather have the money that it would cost, say so."
"I daren't, Aunt Abby. Sanford would find it out and he'd be terribly
annoyed. It's one of his idiosyncrasies, and I have to bear it as long as I
live with him!"
The gleam in the beautiful eyes gave a hint of desperate remedies that
might be applied to the case, but Ferdinand returned to the room, and
the two women quickly spoke of other things.
Hendricks' perfectly appointed and smooth-running car made the trip to
Newark in minimum time. Though the road was not a picturesque one,
the party was in gay spirits and the host was indefatigable in his efforts
to be entertaining.
"I've looked up this Hanlon person," he said. "and his record is
astonishing. I mean, he does astonishing feats. He's a juggler, a sword
swallower and a card sharp--that is, a card wizard. Of course, he's a
faker, but he's a clever one, and I'm anxious to see what his game is this
time. Of course, it's, first of all, advertisement for the paper that's
backing him, but it's a new game. At least, it's new over here; they tell
me it's done to death in England."
"Oh, no, Alvord, it isn't a game," insisted Miss Ames; "if