The girl in the bed turned a fretful face toward her mother:
“Why, Miss Lady promised to spend the afternoon with me. I've been looking forward to it for days.”
“Yes, I know, dear, but I told her you weren't quite so well, and that she could come to-morrow. You see, she really can't afford to miss the Bartrums' tea; it's the first entertainment this fall and everybody will be there. I know you think Mrs. Bartrum a little gay, but you can't deny she runs that younger set.”
Margery Sequin clasped her thin white hands tensely, and resumed her study of the vine-covered ceiling.
“Here's the hat,” said Mrs. Sequin, handing a large hat box to Myrtella, then noting her offended expression she added by way of propitiation: “I don't know how they would get along without you at the Doctor's. I hear that the new mistress doesn't know a saucepan from a skillet.”
“She ain't no fool,” returned Myrtella instantly on the defensive.
“Of course not, just young and careless. I dare say she doesn't even order the groceries, does she?”
“No, mam.”
“Nor plan for the meals?”
“No, mam.”