Alice shrugged her shoulders and answered, "Ask my awful mother."
Mrs. Neff flicked the ashes off her cigarette. "My father always used to tell my brothers that tobacco wouldn't hurt them if they didn't smoke till they were twenty-one. I think it applies to women also."
"Great heavens!" said Winifred, pretending to put away her cigarette, "I've ruined my life. No wonder I'm wasting away."
"Eighteen is the legal age for women," said Ten Eyck.
Winifred resumed her cigarette with a mock childishness. "Then I can just qualify. I was eighteen last—"
"Last century, my dear?" Mrs. Neff cooed.
"For that you can scrub the pots and pans, darling," Winifred crooned. "And I was going to let you off with the wine-glasses. Another crack like that and I'll have you stoking the range."
"I am a martyr in the cause of truth," Mrs. Neff groaned. "Come on; let's get it over with."
Winifred was a sharp taskmaster, and so bulky that none of the women dared to disobey. Nor the men either. Forbes was for helping Persis and saving her delicate hands, but Winifred would not have him in the pantry at all:
"The little snojer cooked the dinner, and he gets a furlough. If I could trust the rest of you I'd walk with him in the moonlight and let him hold my dainty white mitt in his manly clasp."