“And after that he was brazen enough to take his account to the Citizen’s!” exclaimed Mrs. Burgess.
“That wasn’t altogether Gurley’s fault, Gertie,” replied Burgess, softly.
“You don’t mean, Web——”
“I mean that we could have had his account if we’d wanted it.”
“Well, I’m glad we’re under no obligations to carry them round.”
“We’re not, if that’s the way you see it. But Mrs. Gurley wears pretty good clothes,” he suggested, meditatively removing the wrapper from his cigar.
“Webster Burgess, you don’t mean——”
“I mean that she’s smartly set up. You’ve got to hand it to her, particularly for hats.”
“You never see what I wear! You haven’t paid the slightest attention to anything I’ve worn for ten years! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! That woman buys all her clothes in New York, every stitch and feather, and they cost five times what I spend! With the war going on, I don’t feel that it’s right for a woman to spread herself on clothes. You know you said yourself we ought to economize, and I discharged Marie and cut down the household bills. Marie was worth the fifty dollars a month I paid her for the cleaner’s bills she saved me.”
Mrs. Burgess was at all times difficult to tease, and Webster was conscious that he had erred grievously in broaching the matter of Mrs. Gurley’s apparel, which had never interested him a particle. He listened humbly as Mrs. Burgess gave a detailed account of her expenditures for raiment for several years, and revealed what she had never meant to tell him, that out of her personal allowance she was caring for eight French orphans in addition to the dozen she had told him about.