“But,” said His Honor, “you shouldn’t start out in a room. You would want from four to six, I should think.”
Sarah, still ogling that “rooms” column, said, softly:—
“Four to six rooms? That’s just grand if you can afford such. But,”
“Wait!” said Gadsby, who, taking Paul’s and Sarah’s arms, and strolling along, told of a small six-room bungalow of his, just around from Nancy’s.
“And you two will pay just nothing a month for it. It’s yours, from front porch to roof top, as a gift to two of my most loyal pals.”
And instantly a copy of Branton Hills’ “Post” was blowing across Broadway in a fluky July wind!
Now, as this young pair was to start out frugally, it wouldn’t do to lay out too much for, as Sarah said, “about forty words by a pastor, and a kiss.”
So only Priscilla stood up with Sarah; and Bill Gadsby, in all his sartorial glory, with Paul, in Parson Brown’s small study; both girls in dainty morning clothing; Sarah carrying a bunch of gay nasturtiums, claiming that such warm, bright colorings would add as much charm to that short oc-
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