There were no sensational expenditures, but there were odd bills
left unpaid, from midsummer, from early fall, from Christmas.

"And I don't see where we can cut down," said Bert, gloomily.

It was dusk of a bitter winter day. Nancy was lying on a wide
couch beside her bedroom fire, Priscilla snuffled in a bassinet
near by. In a lighted room adjoining, a nurse was washing bottles.
The coming of the second daughter had somehow brought husband and
wife nearer together than they had been for a long time, even now
Nancy had been wrapped in peaceful thought; this was like the old
times, when she had been tired and weak, and Bert had sat and
talked about things, beside her! She brought her mind resolutely
to bear upon all the distasteful suggestions contained in his
involuntary remark.

"What specially worries you, Bert?" she asked.

He turned to her in quick gratitude for her sympathy.

"Nothing special, dear. We just get in deeper and deeper, that's
all. The table, and the servants, and the car, and your bill at
Landmann's--nothing stays within any limit any more! I don't know
where we stand, half the time. It's not that!" He pulled at his
pipe for a moment in silence. "It's not that!" he burst out, "but
I don't think we get much out of it!"

Nancy glanced at him quickly, and then stared into the fire for a
moment of silence. Then she said in a low tone: