“But you don’t think it’s in good taste, Julie?”

“Well no, not exactly.  Not for the office, anyway.”

“All right, then—­that settles it!” the young woman assured her.  “I’ll run upstairs after breakfast and change.  We had a glorious time last night!” she went on, putting her head on one side to give the table a critical glance.  “I’ll tell you about it.  This has boiled up, hasn’t it—­it can be settled?”

“Yes, settle it.” said Julia, buttering toast, “and tell me!”

But at this moment the hall door opened again, and a little girl of four and a half appeared in the doorway.  She was so lovely a vision, with her trailing wrapper and white nightgown bunched up to be out of her way, curls tumbled about her face, and eyes big with reproach, that both women laughed with pleasure at the sight of her.

“Mother,” said she, with that lingering on the last consonant that marks the hurt pride of a child, “why diddunt you wake me?”

“Because you were sleeping so nicely, Pussy!” Julia laughed, on her knees by this time, with both arms about the little figure.  “Give me a thousand kisses and say ‘I love my mother!’”

“I love my mother!” said Anna, her eyes roving the room over her mother’s shoulder.  “I guess you don’t know how hard you’re squeezing me, Mother!” she added.  “Can I come out here in my wrapper, and have breakfast with Regina?”

“Yes, let her, Julia!” Regina urged.  “Come on, darling!  Bring your bowl up here to my end.  Do sit down and eat something yourself, Julia.”

“This is the way to enjoy breakfast; not twenty feet from the stove!” Julia said, pouring the cream into her coffee.  “Was Geraldine stirring when you got up, Regina?”

“Not a stir!” Regina said cheerfully.  “She and Morgan were talking last night until two—­I looked at the clock when she came upstairs!  What they have to talk about gets me!”

“Oh, my dear, engaged people could talk forever,” Julia said leniently.  “They were househunting yesterday, there’s always so much to talk about!”

“It seems to me that the people who don’t marry have the most fun,” Regina said.  “Look at Muriel and Evvy, the money they make!  Evvy going East for the firm every year, and Muriel getting her little twenty-five a week.  And then look at Rita, with four children to slave for—­”

“Ah, well, Rita’s husband doesn’t work steadily, and she hates housework—­she admits it!” Julia protested swiftly.  “Rita could do a good deal, if she would.”

“Rita gives me a great big pain,” said her younger sister absently.

“A boy named Willis had a sword, and he hit a little boy with it, and Mrs. Calhoun said it was a wonder he wasn’t killed!” contributed Anna suddenly, her eyes luminous from some thrilling recollection.

“Fancy!” Julia said.  “Eat your oatmeal, Baby, and run upstairs and get some clothes on!” she added briskly.  “You’ll catch cold!”