Betty Fletcher had a lot on her mind. She was taking a night-course in math and was sitting at her desk studying for an exam.
”Mr. Danger?” she said over the intercom.
”Yes?” said Craven.
“If Susan had three dozen strawberries and four dozen bananas, how long would it take Billy to walk to Susan’s house if Susan lived five miles away and Billy walked one mile per hour. And when he got to Susan’s house, how many strawberry’s and how many bananas would be left for Billy if Susan ate one of each every six minutes?"
“Now my head hurts," said Craven.
“Who ever wrote this stuff is off his nut,” said Betty. “I might have ta take a course in psychiatry just ta figure out what this Billy see’s in Susan, anyway. I mean, heck if I’d walk five miles for anyone’s bananas and strawberries. I don’t care how ripe they are, or how stacked this Susan is.”
“How do you know she’s stacked?" said Craven.
“Would you walk five miles to Susan’s house if she wasn’t built like she was about to fall down?"
“Good question,” said Craven.
“If Billy’s that crazy about Susan,” said Betty, “I’d be bringin’ my own fruit. This Susan sounds like a wart hog.”
“I'd say," said Craven. "And why are you puttin’ yourself through all this, anyways?”
“I figure,” said Betty, “that when you start gettin’ cases and the money is rollin’ in, I gotta know how to take care of it.”
“Ah, Betty,” said Craven. “My little optimist.”
“I’m studyin’ numbers, Mr. Danger, not eyeballs. Maybe you should study to be an optimist, Mr. Danger. Ya know, in case this detective business don’t pan out too good.”
Craven Danger thought about it for a moment, then leaned back in his desk chair and fell off to sleep.