“Oh, I know, Mother, but that seems sort of mean to the other girls!  Anyway, we’d much rather live in the ducky little Settlement house, and entertain our friends at the Club, do you see?  And Justine is to run a little cooking school, do you see?  For everyone says that management of food and money is the most important thing to teach the poorer class.  Won’t that be great?”

“I personally can’t agree with you,” the mother said lifelessly.  “Here I spend all my life since your babyhood trying to make friends for you among the nicest people, trying to establish our family upon an equal basis with much richer people, and you, instead of living as you should, with beautiful things about you, choose to go down to River Street, and drudge among the slums!”

“Oh, come, Mother; River Street is the breeziest, prettiest part of town, with the river and those fields opposite.  Wait until we clean it up, and get some gardens going—­”

“As for Justine, I am done with her,” continued the older woman dispassionately.  “All this has rather put it out of my head, but I meant to tell you at once, she goes out of my house this week!  Against my express wish, she was the guest of the Forum Club to-day.  ‘Miss J. C. Harrison,’ the program said, and I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw Justine!  She had on a black charmeuse gown, black velvet about her hair—­and I was supposed to sit there and listen to my own maid!  I slipped out; it was too much.  To-morrow morning,” Mrs. Salisbury ended dramatically, “I dismiss her!”

“Mother!” said Alexandra, aghast.  “What reason will you give her?”

“I shall give her no reason,” Mrs. Salisbury said sternly.  “I am through with apologies to servants!  To-morrow I shall apply at Crosby’s for a good, old-fashioned maid, who doesn’t have to have her daily bath, and doesn’t expect to be entertained at my club!”

“But, listen, darling,” Alexandra pleaded.  “Don’t make a fuss now.  Justine was my darling belle-mere’s guest to-day, don’t you see?  It’ll be so awkward, scrapping right in the face of Owen’s news.  Couldn’t you sort of shelve the Justine question for a while?”

“Dearie, be advised,” Mrs. Salisbury said, with solemn warning.  “You don’t want a girl like that, dear.  You will be a somebody, Sandy.  You can’t do just what any other girl would do, as Owen Sargent’s wife!  Don’t live with Mrs. Sargent if you don’t want to, but take a pretty house, dear.  Have two or three little maids, in nice caps and aprons.  Why, Alice Snow, whose husband is merely an automobile salesman, has a lovely home!  It’s small, of course, but you could have your choice!”

“Well, nothing’s settled!” Alexandra rose to go upstairs, gathered her furs about her.  “Only promise me to let Justine’s question stand,” she begged.

“Well,” Mrs. Salisbury consented unwillingly.