"Don't you think you are rather strict—I mean about hours, and beaux, and all that sort of thing? My three all have beaux—only poor Flora's don't seem very faithful. Mama, don't you think you ought to see an aurist? You really are a little—"
"Not at all! I hear perfectly;—except when people mumble. And I shall never change; my way of keeping house is the right way, so why should I change?"
"I couldn't keep my girls a week if I were as strict as you," Mrs. Payton ventured.
"It wouldn't be much loss, my dear!" the older woman said; she ran a white-gloved finger along the top of the piano beside her, and held it up, with a dry laugh. "You could eat off the floor in my house; but you never were much of a housekeeper. However, I didn't come to talk about servants; I came to tell you that I am going to call on those cousins of Mr. Weston's, and explain that at any rate I don't approve of my granddaughter's going into business!"
"I'm sure I don't, either!" poor Mrs. Payton protested. "I am dreadfully distr—"
"Why don't you tell her it isn't done? Why do you allow it?" Mrs. Holmes demanded.
Mrs. Payton raised protesting hands: "'Allow' Freddy?"
"If you'd stop her allowance, you'd stop her nonsense. That is what I would do if a daughter of mine cut such didos!"
"I can't—she's of age. You can't control girls nowadays," Mrs. Payton sighed.