"
"Oh!" says Vee, readin' on. "'Butter, two pounds; eggs, two--' Do
they sell eggs that way, Doris?"
"Don't they?" asks Doris. "I'm sure I don't know."
"'Coffee, two pounds,'" continues Vee. "'Yeast cakes, two pounds--'
Why, wouldn't that be a lot of yeast cakes? They're such little
things!"
"Perhaps," says Doris. "But then, I sha'n't have to bother ordering
any more for a month, you see. Now, take the next item. 'Champagne
wafers, ten pounds.' I'm fond of those. But that is the only time I
broke my rule. See--'flour, two pounds; roast beef, two pounds,' and
so on. Oh, I mean to be quite systematic in my housekeeping!"
"Isn't she a wonder?" asks Westy, gazin' at her proud and mushy.
"I say, though, Vee," goes on Doris enthusiastic, "you must come home
with us for dinner to-night. Do!"
At which Westy nudges her and whispers something behind his hand.
"Oh, yes," adds Doris. "You too, Torchy."
Vee had to 'phone Auntie and get Doris to back her up before the
special dispensation was granted; but at six-thirty the four of us
starts uptown for this brownstone bird-cage of happiness that Westy has
taken a five-year lease of.
"Just think!" says Vee, as we unloads from the taxi. "You with a house
of your own, and managing servants, and--"
"Oh!" remarks Doris, as she pushes the button.
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