"I have to read the d'rections first, don't I?" came Spencer's firm tones. "You can sit still and watch."
"Now I didn't budge from my bed until noon," went on Margaret, "and then Amy had breakfast ready for me, and then I jumped in a taxi and came up here. I have to run along in a minute, high tea down in the Village. But you've been at work since early dawn, haven't you?"
"Oh, there were a few things——"
"Why don't you find a real housekeeper in Flora's place?"
"I can't afford to pay more, yet. And Flora is too good to throw out. I can manage."
"You know"—Margaret's eyes were bright with curiosity—"I should like to know what started this, your leaving your happy home, I mean. I thought you were the devoted mother till eternity."
"I am," said Catherine, calmly. Then she leaned forward. "Do you realize that the loneliest person in the world is a devoted mother? This summer, Margaret, I thought I'd really go crazy. I was so sorry for myself it was ludicrous. I'm trying to find out if I am a person, with anything to use except a pair of hands—on monotonous, silly tasks."
"Of course, the trouble is just that. You are a person. I'm glad you've waked up, Catherine. You know, there isn't a man in the world that I'd give up my job for."
"I want a man, too." Catherine's mouth was stubborn. "And my children. I want everything. Perhaps I want too much."
"Oh, children." Margaret glanced through the wide doors. "Maybe I'll want some, some day. Nice little ducks. Now I've got Amy—and love enough to keep from growing stale. I want you to meet Amy some day." She rose, adjusting the brim of her wide purple hat. "Amy's waiting now. Tell Charles I'm longing for a glimpse of him." She made a humorous little grimace. "Want to see how he likes this new arrangement."