s makes you guess
about, at a charity-bazaar.

Mrs. Winters herself--the Mrs. Winters who is _so_ interested in young
people as long as they will do exactly what she wants them to--every
inch of her from her waved white hair to the black jet spangles on
her dinner gown or the notes of her "cultivated" voice as frosted and
glittery and artificial as a piece of _glace_ fruit. And with her,
Nancy, dressed for dinner too, because Mrs. Winters feels it to be one's
duty to oneself to dress for dinner always, no matter how much one's
guests may wish to relax--Nancy as much out of place in the apartment
whose very cushions seem to smell of that modern old-maidishness that
takes itself for superior feminist virtue as a crocus would be in an
exhibition of wool flowers--a Nancy who doesn't talk much and has faint
blue stains under her eyes.

"So everything went very satisfactorily indeed today, dear Nancy?"

Mrs. Winters' voice implies the uselessness of the question. Nancy is
staying with Mrs. Winters--it would be very strange indeed if even the
least important accompaniments of such a visit were not of the most
satisfactory kind.

"Yes, Mrs. Winters. Nothing particularly happened, that is--but they
like my work."

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Winters croons at her, she is being motherly. The
effect produced is rather that of a sudden assumption of life and
vicarious motherhood on the part of a small, brightly-painted porcelain
hen.

"Then they will be sending you over shortly, no doubt? Across the wide
wide sea--" adds Mrs. Winters archly, but Nancy is too tired-looking to
respond to the fancy.

"I suppose they will when they get ready," she answers briefly and
returns to her chicken-croquette with the thought that in its sleekness,
genteelness, crumblingness, and generally unnourishing qualities it is
really rather like Mrs. Winters. An immense desire, after two weeks of
Mrs. Winters' mental and physical cuisine for something as hearty
and gross as the mere sight of a double planked steak possesses her
achingly--but Mrs. Winters was told once that she "ate like a bird."

"Well, in that case, dear Nancy, you certainly must not leave New
York indefinitely without making the most of your opportunities," Mrs.
Winters' tones are full of genteel decision. "I have made out a little
list, dear Nancy, of some things which I thought, in my funny old way,
might possibly be worth your while. We will talk it over after dinner,
if you like--