identities in this way."

"You mean that Harrison isn't your name?" Mrs. Salisbury felt this to
be really a little alarming, in some vague way.

"Oh, no! And Justine was given me as a number might have been."

"But what is your name?" The question fell from Mrs. Salisbury as
naturally as an "Ouch!" would have fallen had somebody dropped a
lighted match on her hand. "I had no idea of that!" she went on
artlessly. "But I suppose you told Mr. Salisbury?"

The luncheon was finished, and now Justine stood up, and picked up the
tray.

"No. That's the very point. We use our college names," she reiterated
simply. "Will you let me bring you up a little more custard, Madam?"

"No, thank you," Mrs. Salisbury said, after a second's pause. She
looked a little thoughtful as Justine walked away. There is no real
reason why one's maid should not wear an assumed name, of course.
Still--

"What a ridiculous thing that college must be!" said Mrs. Salisbury,
turning comfortably in her pillows. "But she certainly is a splendid
cook!"

About this point, at least, there was no argument. Justine did not need
cream or sherry, chopped nuts or mushroom sauces to make simple food
delicious. She knew endless ways in which to serve food; potatoes
became a nightly surprise, macaroni was never the same, rice had a
dozen delightful roles. Because the family enjoyed her maple custard or
almond cake, she did not, as is the habit with cooks, abandon every
other flavoring for maple or almond. She was following a broader
schedule than that supplied by the personal tastes of the Salisburys,
and she went her way serenely.

Not so much as a teaspoonful of cold spinach was wasted in these days.
Justine's "left-over" dishes were quite as good as anything else she
cooked; her artful combinations, her garnishes of pastry, her illusive
seasoning, her enveloping and varied sauces disguised and transformed
last night's dinner into a real feast to-night.

The Treasure went to market only twice a week, on Saturdays and
Tuesdays. She planned her meals long beforehand, with the aid of charts
brought from college, and paid cash for everything she bought. She
always carried a large market basket on her arm on these trips, and
something in her trim, strong figure and clean gray gown, as she
started off, appealed to a long-slumbering sense of house-holder's
pride in Mr. Salisbury. It seemed good to him that a person who worked
so hard for him and for his should