clothes and plan. Having married Jarvis out of hand, she would now take him on a moneymoon; they would seek their fortune instead of love. He would peddle his play; she would honour the publisher with a visit. She hugged herself with joy over the prospect. She worked out various schemes by which she could break it to Jarvis and the Professor that she had money enough for a trip to New York, without saying how she got it. Fortunately, they were not of an inquiring mind, so she hoped that she could convince them without much difficulty. She tried out a scene or two just to prove how she would do it. At luncheon she paved the way.
“How much more work is there on the play, Jarvis?”
“I ought to finish it this week,” he answered. “It is good, too. It is a first-rate play.”
“You ought to go to New York with it, and see the managers,” she said.
“Ugh!”
“Well, it’s got to be done. You can’t teach school unless you have pupils.”
“I am not a pedant,” he protested.
“You’re a reformer, and you’ve got to get something to reform.”
