Her husband groaned.
"I don't want an efficient wife, the kind that counts her steps and moves, and has charts and signs hanging all over the house."
"I'm not going to do any of those things; but I do want to buy for our home as closely as you buy for your firm. I'm afraid that Mr. Dahlgren, my butcher, is overcharging me. I've bought meat there, and vegetables and fruit ever since we moved into this apartment; we've paid him hundreds and hundreds of dollars, and—well, I think I ought to talk to him."
Mr. Larry kissed the pink finger-tip, and several more, before he answered.
"Before you make any statements about his overcharging, you must know the prices elsewhere."
"Oh, I do," and she held up a sheet of paper covered with figures, some newspaper clippings and a Housewives' Marketing Guide of the current week. "I got these at the Housewives' League meeting."
The clock in the living-room struck the half hour and Mr. Larry reached for his hat.
