but not once had he hazarded respectability by adventuring. Now, as
he calculated the cost of repapering the Styles house, he was restless
again, discontented about nothing and everything, ashamed of his
discontentment, and lonely for the fairy girl.




CHAPTER IV

IT was a morning of artistic creation. Fifteen minutes after the purple
prose of Babbitt's form-letter, Chester Kirby Laylock, the resident
salesman at Glen Oriole, came in to report a sale and submit an
advertisement. Babbitt disapproved of Laylock, who sang in choirs and
was merry at home over games of Hearts and Old Maid. He had a tenor
voice, wavy chestnut hair, and a mustache like a camel's-hair brush.
Babbitt considered it excusable in a family-man to growl, "Seen this
new picture of the kid--husky little devil, eh?" but Laylock's domestic
confidences were as bubbling as a girl's.

"Say, I think I got a peach of an ad for the Glen, Mr. Babbitt.
Why don't we try something in poetry? Honest, it'd have wonderful
pulling-power. Listen:

'Mid pleasures and palaces,
Wherever you may roam,
You just provide the little bride
And we'll provide the home.

Do you get it? See--like 'Home Sweet Home.' Don't you--"