“Time was, Beulah, when Saturday was the great day of preparation for all housekeepers.  Bless my soul!  My mother would just about as soon have thought of anticipating the discovery of the open Polar Sea, by a trip thither, as going out to visit on Saturday.  Why, from my boyhood, Saturday has been synonymous with scouring, window washing, pastry baking, stocking darning, and numerous other venerable customs, which this age is rapidly dispensing with.  My wife had a lingering reverence for the duties of the day, and tried to excuse herself, but I suppose those pretty wax dolls of mine have coaxed her into ‘receiving,’ as they call it.  Beulah, my wife is an exception; but the mass of married women nowadays, instead of being thorough housewives (as nature intended they should), are delicate, do-nothing, know-nothing, fine ladies.  They have no duties.  ’O tempora, O mores!’” He paused to relight his cigar, and, just then, Georgia came in, dressed very richly.  He tossed the taper into the grate, and exclaimed, as she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him: 

“You pretty imp; what is to pay now?  Here Beulah has been sitting, nobody knows how long, in that frigid zone you call your music room.  What are you rigged out in all that finery for?”

“We are going to dine out to-day, father.  Beulah will excuse me, I know.”

“Indeed!  Dine where?”

“Mrs. Delmont came round this morning to invite us to dine with some of her young friends from New Orleans.”

“Well, I shan’t go, that is all.”

“Oh, you are not expected, sir,” laughed Georgia, brushing the gray locks from his ample forehead.

“Not expected, eh?  Does your lady mother contemplate leaving me to discuss my dinner in doleful solitude?”

“No, mother has gone with Mrs. Rallston to see about some poor, starving family in the suburbs.  She will be back soon, I dare say.  Mrs. Delmont has sent her carriage, and Helen is waiting for me; so I must go.  Beulah, I am very sorry, we have been cut out of our practicing.  Don’t go home; stay with mother to-day, and when I come back we will have a glorious time.  Can’t you now?  There’s a darling.”

“Oh, you wheedling, hypocritical madcap, take yourself off!  Of course Beulah will try to endure the stupid talk of a poor old man, whose daughters are too fashionable to look after him, and whose wife is so extremely charitable that she forgets it ’begins at home.’  Clear out, you trial of paternal patience!” He kissed her rosy lips, and she hurried away, protesting that she would much prefer remaining at home.

“Beulah, I gave Hartwell that parcel you intrusted to me.  He looked just as if I had plunged him into a snow-bank, but said nothing.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, don’t thank me for playing go-between.  I don’t relish any such work.  It is very evident that you two have quarreled.  I would about as soon consult that poker as ask Hartwell what is to pay.  Now, child, what is the matter?”