"How good it smells," said Beth.
"Ah, that's the lavender. I often burn lavender. Would you like to see me burn some lavender? Come to my room, then, and I'll show you. But take your things off first."
Beth dragged off her hat and jacket and threw them aside. They happened to fall on the floor.
"My dear child!" Aunt Grace Mary exclaimed, "look at your things!"
Beth looked at them, but nothing occurred to her; so she looked at her aunt inquiringly.
"I always put mine away—at least I should, you know, if I hadn't a maid," said Aunt Grace Mary.
"Oh, let your maid put mine away too," Beth answered casually.
"But, my dear child, you must learn," Aunt Grace Mary insisted, picking up Beth's things and putting them in a drawer as she spoke. "Who puts your things away at home?"
"Mamma," Beth answered laconically. "She says it's less trouble to do things herself."
"Oh, but you must save your mother the trouble, dear," said Aunt Grace Mary in a shocked tone.