But what use were good resolves; when one might find, the very next day, that there were no more cherries for the grapefruit, that one had not a pair of presentable white gloves for the club, or that the motor-picnic that the children were planning was to cost them five dollars apiece?  To serve grapefruit without cherries, to wear colored gloves, or no gloves at all to the club, and to substitute some inexpensive pleasure for the ride was a course that never occurred to Mrs. Carew, that never occurred to any of her friends.  Mrs. Carew might have a very vague idea of her daughter’s spiritual needs, she might be an entire stranger to the delicately adjusted and exquisitely susceptible entity that was the real Jeanette, but she would have gone hungry rather than have Jeanette unable to wear white shoes to Sunday School, rather than tie Jeanette’s braids with ribbons that were not stiff and new.  She was so entirely absorbed in pursuit of the “correct thing,” so anxious to read what was “being read,” to own what was “right”, that she never stopped to seriously consider her own or her daughter’s place in the universe.  She was glad, of course when the children “liked their teacher,” just as she had been glad years before when they “liked their nurse.”  The reasons for such likings or dislikings she never investigated; she had taken care of the children herself during the nurse’s regular days “off”, but she always regarded these occasions as so much lost time.  Mrs. Carew kept her children, as she kept her house, well-groomed, and she gave about as much thought to the spiritual needs of the one as the other.  She had been brought up to believe that the best things in life are to be had for money, and that earthly happiness or unhappiness falls in exact ratio with the possession or non-possession of money.  She met the growing demands of her family as well as she could, and practised all sorts of harassing private economies so that, in the eyes of the world, the family might seem to be spending a great deal more money than was actually the case.  Mrs. Carew’s was not an analytical mind, but sometimes she found herself genuinely puzzled by the financial state of affairs.

“I don’t know where the money goes to!” she said, in a confidential moment, to Mrs. Lloyd.  They had met in the market, where Mrs. Carew was consulting a long list of necessary groceries.

“Oh, don’t speak of it!” said Mrs. Lloyd, feelingly.  “That’s so, your dinner is tomorrow night, isn’t it?” she added with interest.  “Are you going to have Lizzie?”

“Oh, dear me, yes!  For eight, you know.  Shan’t you have her?” For Mrs. Lloyd’s turn to entertain Mrs. Burgoyne followed Mrs. Carew’s by only a few days.

“Lizzie and her mother, too,” said the other woman.  “I don’t know what’s the matter with maids in these days,” she went on, “they simply can’t do things, as my mother’s maids used to, for example.  Now the four of them will be working all day over Thursday’s dinner, and, dear me! it’s a simple enough dinner.”