"An' all I can tell you is, livin' or dead, in a job or out, no matter what happens to me, if you will lead that way, you will, an' there's nothin' else to it."
"I guess I kept straight before I met you," she came back with a toss of the head. "And I kept straight after I met you, which is going some if anybody should ask you."
Hot words were on Bert's tongue, but Saxon intervened and brought about peace. She was concerned over the outcome of their marriage. Both were highstrung, both were quick and irritable, and their continual clashes did not augur well for their future.
The safety razor was a great achievement for Saxon. Privily she conferred with a clerk she knew in Pierce's hardware store and made the purchase. On Sunday morning, after breakfast, when Billy was starting to go to the barber shop, she led him into the bedroom, whisked a towel aside, and revealed the razor box, shaving mug, soap, brush, and lather all ready. Billy recoiled, then came back to make curious investigation. He gazed pityingly at the safety razor.
"Huh! Call that a man's tool!"
"It'll do the work," she said. "It does it for thousands of men every day."
But Billy shook his head and backed away.
"You shave three times a week," she urged. "That's forty-five cents. Call it half a dollar, and there are fifty-two weeks in the year. Twenty-six dollars a year just for shaving. Come on, dear, and try it. Lots of men swear by it."
He shook his head mutinously, and the cloudy deeps of his eyes grew more cloudy. She loved that sullen handsomeness that made him look so boyish, and, laughing and kissing him, she forced him into a chair, got off his coat, and unbuttoned shirt and undershirt and turned them in.
Threatening him with, "If you open your mouth to kick I'll shove it in," she coated his face with lather.
"Wait a minute," she checked him, as he reached desperately for the razor. "I've been watching the barbers from the sidewalk.
This is what they do after the lather is on."
And thereupon she proceeded to rub the lather in with her fingers.
"There," she said, when she had coated his face a second time.
"You're ready to begin. Only remember, I'm not always going to do this for you. I'm just breaking you in, you see."
With great outward show of rebellion, half genuine, half facetious, he made several tentative scrapes with the razor. He winced violently, and violently exclaimed:
"Holy jumping Jehosaphat!"
He examined his face in the glass, and a streak of blood showed in the midst of the lather.
"Cut!--by a safety razor, by God! Sure, men swear by it. Can't blame 'em. Cut! By a safety!"
"But wait a second," Saxon pleaded. "They have to be regulated.
The clerk told me. See those little screws. There ... That's it .. turn them around."
Again Billy applied the blade to his face. After a couple of scrapes, be looked at himself closely in the mirror, grinned, and went on shaving. With swiftness and dexterity he scraped his face clean of lather. Saxon clapped her hands.
"Fine," Billy approved. "Great! Here. Give me your hand. See what a good job it made."
