“Why not? I am married to him.”
“Yes, I suppose you are, but you seem so unmarried,” he objected.
“We will have to practise up a few married poses, Jarvis. You must not act so interested in me. Father says we don’t act married.”
“I am not in the least interested in you,” Jarvis defended himself, valiantly.
“There, father, could anything be more husband-like?”
“Where did you get the money, Jarvis?” the Professor asked.
“I didn’t get it. She got it.”
“Why, my dear,” protested her father, “where did you get any money?”
“I have turned lady burglar.”
“What?”
“Cheer up. It’s butter-'n’-eggs money.”
“Butter-'n’-eggs money?” repeated Jarvis.
“Certainly. The downtrodden farmer’s wife always gives up her butter-'n’-eggs money to save the family fortunes, or build a new barn.”
“What are you talking about?” interrupted the Professor.
“I don’t know why the fact that I have a little
