"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 occasion as a thousand dollars' worth of orchids. Now, such
girls as Sarah, with that capacity for finding satisfaction so simply,
don't grow as abundantly as hollyhocks--and Paul found that Gadsby's
old Organization was a group knowing what a dollar is: just a dollar.