Madame Beattie laughed.
"Jeff," said she, "I've no visible means of support. If I had I should be as mild—you can't think!"
He turned and, without a look at Esther, strode out of the room. Esther hardly waited for the door to close behind him before she fell upon Madame Beattie.
"Who did it?" she cried. "That woman?"
Madame Beattie was exploring a little box for a tablet, which she took composedly.
"What woman?" she asked.
"That woman upstairs."
"Rhoda Knox? God bless me, no! Rhoda Knox wouldn't steal a button. She's New England to the bone."
"Esther, you're a fool. Why don't you let me manage Jeff in my own way? You won't manage him yourself." She got up with a clashing of little chains and yawned broadly. "Don't forget Alston Choate sitting in the dining-room waiting like a messenger boy."