Joe came to New York from the Middle West, dreaming about painting. Delia came to New York from the South, dreaming about music. Joe and Delia met in a studio. Before long they were good friends and got married. They had only a small flat to live in, but they were happy. They loved each other, and they were both interested in art. Everything was fine until one day they found they had spent all their money. Delia decided to give music lessons. One afternoon she said to her husband: "Joe, , I've found a pupil, a general's daughter. She is a sweet girl. I'm to give three lessons a week and get $5 a lesson." But Joe was not glad. "But how about me?" he said." Do you think I'm going to watch you work while I play with my art? No, I want to earn some money too." "Joe, , you are silly," said Delia. "You must keep at your studies. We can live quite happily on $15 a week." "Well, perhaps I can sell some of my pictures," said Joe. Every day they parted in the morning and met in the evening. A week passed and Delia brought home fifteen dollars, but she looked a little tired. "Clementina sometimes gets on my nerves. I'm afraid she doesn't practice enough. But the general is the nicest old man! I wish you could know him, Joe." And then Joe took eighteen dollars out of his pocket. "I've sold one of my pictures to a man from Peoria," he said, "and he has ordered another." "I'm so glad," said Delia. "Thirty-three dollars! We never had so much to spend before. We'll have a good supper tonight." Next week Joe came home and put another eighteen dollars on the table. In half an hour Delia came, her right hand in a bandage. "What's the matter with your hand?" said Joe. Delia laughed and said: "Oh, a funny thing happened! Clemantina gave me a plate of soup and spilled some of it on my hand. She was very sorry for it. And so was the old general. But why are you looking at me like that, Joe?" "What time this afternoon did you burn your hand, Delia?" "Five o'clock, I think. The iron-I mean the soup-was ready about five, Why?" "Delia, come and sit here," said Joe. He drew her to the couch and sat beside her. "What do you do every day, Delia? Do you really give music lesson? Tell me the truth." She began to cry. "I couldn't get any pupils," she said, "So I got a place in a laundry ironing shirts. This afternoon a girl accidentally set down an iron on my hand and I got a bad burn. But tell me, Joe, how did you guess that I wasn't giving music lessons?" "It's very simple," said Joe. "I knew all about your bandages because I had to send them upstairs to a girl in the laundry who had an accident with a hot iron. You see, I work in the engine-room of the same laundry where you work." "And your pictures? Did you sell any to that man from Peoria?" "Well, _  And then they both laughed. To support the family, Delia worked as_.
a tutor a music teacher a laundry assistant an artist