Mrs. Ess Kay introduced us, in a more precise way than we have at home, and Mrs. Taylour said that she was very happy to meet me, which I should have thought particularly kind, if I hadn't found out that it's a sort of formula which Americans think it polite to use.
She talked to me a good deal, and wanted to know how I liked America, of course; I was sure she would do that.
Then Mrs. Ess Kay explained that I was interested in her apartment being up so high, and thought her plucky to live in it before the house was finished. This amused Mrs. Taylour very much.
"We are just thankful to be in it," she said. "I was tired out with housekeeping, the servant question is too awful."
"I see you've a trained nurse-maid for Rosemary," said Mrs. Ess Kay. "We met them going out."
"Isn't Rosemary a pet?" Mrs. Taylour asked me, as if she were speaking of somebody else's little girl.
"Sweet," I said. "Has she been ill?"
"No. Do you think she looks delicate?"
"It was the hospital nurse——" I began; but Mrs. Taylour laughed.
"Oh, I suppose that would strike you as funny. But we often have them for our children. We poor New York women have so much to do socially, we have to be relieved of all feeling of responsibility, if we don't want to come down with nervous prostration. I shall hang onto this same nurse for years if she'll stay; she's so good, and only ten dollars a week. When Rosemary grows up and comes out, she will be her maid, you know, Lady Betty. Do you ever have trained nurse-maids in England?"