“What makes a residence district good?” asked Horatia, quizzically, though she knew perfectly well.
The three suburban ladies looked a little shocked.
“Why the people, the people who live here. This district is restricted. You can’t build houses here that cost less than twelve thousand. That keeps out undesirables.”
“I see,” said Horatia, waiving her rights to controversy.
“Of course, with growing children,” began Maud in an instructive matronly tone.
Growing children, it appeared, were all important to the three ladies. Horatia dropped out of the conversation but kept a look of bright intelligence focused on her informants. Growing children must be carefully watched and not allowed to make acquaintances among those whose residence districts were not restricted. They “picked up everything.” They were the subject of a long conversation which went from schools to carrots. The interest of the three ladies never flagged. Horatia held the baby in her lap and played with its wisps of hair, hardly attending to what was said. She vaguely heard the talk pass from undesirable children to undesirable mothers and the voices became more tense. The names were nothing to her and she was in no mood to combat the intolerances of the others. The baby was so small and pink and clean and desirable. Maud must have a lot of fun. It must be fun to share children with a man—— She heard a familiar name and broke off her thoughts abruptly. What was that they were saying?
“She was seen downtown having lunch with that Jim Langley—and you know what he is.”
“Oh, she doesn’t care what she does,” said Maud. “Whatever happened between her and her husband—do you know?”
“They say that after their baby died, she refused flatly to have any more—and you know how men are. If a woman can’t be tactful about those things and the way she feels—she said outrageous things about not being able to endure more such suffering. And yet when the child was alive she was hardly ever home.”
“That’s the way with those women,” said Maud sagely.