own
before you came in here twenty minutes ago?"

"I? Indeed I didn't!" Mrs. Carr-Boldt said. "I had my breakfast and
letters at seven, bath at eight, straightened out that squabble
between Swann and the cook,--I think Paul is still simmering, but
that's neither here nor there!--then I went down with the vet to see
the mare. Joe'll never forgive me if I've really broken the creature's
knees!--then I telephoned mother, and saw Harriet's violin man, and
talked to that Italian Joe sent up to clean the oils,--he's in the
gallery now, and--let's see--"

"Italian lesson," Margaret prompted.

"Italian lesson," the other echoed, "and then came in here to sign
my cheques."

"You're so executive, Harriet!" said Mrs. Crawford, languidly.

"Apropos of Swann," Margaret said, "he confided to me that he has
seven children--on a little farm down on Long Island."

"The butler--oh, I dare say!" Mrs. Watson agreed. "They can,
because they've no standard to maintain--seven, or seventeen--the
only difference in expense is the actual amount of bread
and butter consumed."

"It's too bad," said Mrs. Crawford. "But you've got to handle the
question sanely and reasonably, like any other. Now, I love children,"
she went on. "I'm perfectly crazy about my sister's little girl. She's
eleven now, and the cutest thing alive. But when I think of all
Mabel's been through, since she was born,--I realize that it's a
little too much to expect of any woman. Now, look at us,--there are
thousands of people fixed as we are. We're in an apartment hotel, with
one maid. There's no room for a second maid, no porch and no back
yard. Well, the baby comes,--one loses, before and after the event,
just about six months of everything, and of course the expense is
frightful, but no matter!--the baby comes. We take a house. That means
three indoor maids, George's chauffeur, a man for lawn and
furnace--that's five--"

"Doubling expenses," said Mrs. Carr-Boldt, thoughtfully.

"Doubling--! Trebling, or more. But that's not all. Baby must be out
from eleven to three every day. So you've got to go sit by the
carriage in the park while nurse goes home for her lunch. Or, if
you're out for luncheon, or giving a luncheon, she brings baby home,
bumps the carriage into the basement, carries the baby upstairs, eats
her lunch in snatches--the maids don't like it, and I don't blame
them! I know how it was with Mabel; she had to give up that wonderful
old apartment of their