“Your box is next ours,” continued Pauline, lingering near the sofa. “Mrs. Walbridge is on our other side. Mother always insists on finding out who our neighbors will be before purchasing tickets for charitable entertainments.”
“As a health precaution?” inquired Mrs. Fordyce. “Or is it a question of social prestige?”
“Both,” acknowledged Pauline quickly. “So many things are catching these days, we don’t like to come in contact with—dirt.” And her meaning smile deepened as she saw Mrs. Fordyce flinch; she had scored at last. “We all have our idiosyncrasies, dear Mrs. Fordyce; good-bye. Don’t trouble to come downstairs with me, Janet, I can find my way out alone.”
“Of course I’m coming with you.” Janet followed her friend out of the room, leaving her mother sitting in her chair in a brown study. She was aroused almost immediately by Janet’s re-entrance.
“What an odious creature!” she shivered. “Upon my word, Janet, what’s the world coming to? Are there no ladies any more?”
“Now don’t be old-fashioned,” Janet threw herself down pettishly on the sofa. “Can you give me some money, mumsie?”
“What has become of your father’s Christmas check?”
“Spent,” laconically. “I can’t help it, mumsie; money just evaporates in this old town. I just want to buy a—a—new bracelet,” glancing down deprecatingly at her bare wrist.
“You have a careless hand, Janet,” said her mother reprovingly. “However, I cannot have you want for anything. Will a check for fifty dollars do?”
“Oh, yes; thank you, darling,” beaming gratefully upon her mother. “But instead of a check, could you give me——” she stopped as some one rapped on the door. In response to Mrs. Fordyce’s bidding, Marjorie stepped into the room.