“Ah, there’s Dad!” Alexandra cried suddenly, as the front door opened and shut.  With a joyous rush, she flew to meet him, and Mrs. Salisbury could imagine, from the sounds she heard, exactly how Sandy and her great news and her furs and her father’s kisses were all mixed up together.  “What—­what—­what—­why, what am I going to do for a girl?” “Oh, Dad, darling, say that you’re glad!” “Luckiest fellow this side of the Rocky Mountains, and I’ll tell him so!” “And you and Mother to dine with us every week, promise that, Dad!”

She heard them settle down on the lowest step, Sandy obviously in her father’s lap; heard the steady murmur of confidence and advice.

“Wise girl, wise girl,” she heard the man’s voice say.  “That keeps you in touch with life, Sandy; that’s real.  And then, if some day you have reasons for wanting a bigger house and a more quiet neighborhood—­” Several frantic kisses interrupted the speaker here, but he presently went on:  “Why, you can always move!  Meantime, you and Owen are helping less fortunate people, you’re building up a lot of wonderful associations—­”

Well, it was all probably for the best; it would turn out quite satisfactorily for everyone, thought the mother, sitting in the darkening library, and staring rather drearily before her.  Sandy would have children, and children must have big rooms and sunshine, if it can be managed possibly.  The young Sargents would fall nicely into line, as householders, as parents, as hospitable members of society.

But it was all so different from her dreams, of a giddy, spoiled Sandy, the petted wife of an adoring rich man; a Sandy despotically and yet generously ruling servants, not consulting Justine as an equal, in a world of working women—­

And she was not even to have the satisfaction of discharging Justine!  The maid had her rights, her place in the scheme of things, her pride.

“I declare, times have changed!” Mrs. Salisbury said to herself involuntarily.  She mused over the well-worn phrase; she had never used it herself before; its truth struck her forcibly for the first time.

“I remember my mother saying that,” thought she, “and how old-fashioned and conventional we thought her!  I remember she said it when Mat and I went to dances, after we were married; it seemed almost wrong to her!  Dear me!  And I remember Ma’s horror when Mat went to a hospital for her first baby.  ’If there is a thing that belongs at home,’ Ma said, ‘it does seem to me it’s a baby!’ And my asking people to dinner by telephone, and the Fosters having two bathrooms in their house—­Ma thought that such a ridiculous affectation!  But what would she say now?  For those things were only trifles, after all,” Mrs. Salisbury sighed, in all honesty.  “But now, why, the world is simply being turned upside down with these crazy new notions!” And again she paused, surprised to hear herself using another old, familiar phrase.  “Ma used to say that very thing, too,” said Mrs. Salisbury to herself.  “Poor Ma!”