"Gosh! that strikes me funny." Mrs. Jackson was natural at last.
"Not at all," replied Mrs. Symes with hauteur. "She must work, so why not for me? She's strong and very, very capable."
"Oh, she's capable all right, but," persisted Mrs. Jackson unconvinced, "it strikes me funny. Say, is Essie Tisdale a servant, too?"
Mrs. Symes smiled ever so slightly as she fumbled with her visiting card and laid it in a more conspicuous place.
"Certainly."
"Was that why she wasn't ast to the banquet?"
Again Mrs. Symes smiled the slow, deprecating smile which she was assiduously cultivating.
"Society must draw the line somewhere, Mrs. Jackson."
Mrs. Jackson gulped with a clicking sound, and at the door shook hands with Mrs. Symes, wearing the dazed expression of one who has bumped his head on a shelf corner. Through the potted geranium she watched Mrs. Symes picking her way across another vacant lot to the dwelling of the Sylvanus Starr's.
Mrs. Abe Tutts with her blue flannel yachting cap set at an aggressive angle over one eye paddled across the street and was upon Mrs. Jackson before that person was aware of her presence.