“Well, young lady, I see it like this. What others have done, I can. I feel I must do something for the children. Mrs. Reynolds has married three of her daughters to boarders. She’s giving up. Elsie is going into the typing.”
“You haven’t written to me.”
“You stay where you are, young lady.”
“Well—I think it’s awfully sweet of you Mrs. Bailey.”
“Don’t you think about that. It needn’t make any difference to you.”
“Well—of course—if you heard of a boarder——”
Mrs. Bailey made a little dab at Miriam’s knee. “You stay where you are my dear.”
“I do hope it will be a success. The house will be completely changed.”
“I know it’s a risk. But if you get on it pays better. There’s less work in it and you’ve got a house to live in. Nothing venture, nothing have. It’s no good to be backward in coming forward nowadays. We’ve got to march with the times.”
Miriam tried to see Mrs. Bailey presiding, the huge table lined with guests. She doubted. Those boarding-houses in Woburn Place, the open windows in the summer, the strange smart people, in evening dress, the shaded lamps, she would be lost. She could never hold her own. The quiet house would be utterly changed. There would be people going about, in possession, all over the front steps and at the dining-room windows and along the drawing-room balcony.