economical, and she thought she had been,
because there were so many more things she wanted,--things that all
their friends seemed to have. When confronted by the figures showing
that they had spent seven, nine, eleven thousand dollars a year,--and
yet had many unpaid bills,--she could not believe them and
stammered,--"I know I'm not a good manager--not really. But all that!
You must be mistaken." Then the business man showed his irritation.
Figures did not lie: he wished every woman could be taught that axiom at
her mother's knee....

"We lived so simply," Milly protested. "Just two maids most of the
time,--three this winter, but," etc. In the end the brother-in-law
gathered up all the unsettled bills and promised to pay them. He would
not have his brother's name tarnished. And he arranged for an
advantageous lease of the apartment from the first of the next month, so
that after paying charges and interest there would be a little income
left over for Milly. Here he stopped and made it clear to Milly that
although he should do what he could for his brother's child, she must
see what she could do for herself, and what her own people offered her.
Big Business had been disturbed of late. He was obliged to cut his own
expenses. First and last he had done a good deal for Jack. His wife
called Milly "extravagant"--Milly had never found her congenial. In the
end Milly felt that her brother-in-law was "hard," and she resolved that
neither she nor her child should ever trouble him again.

She had already written her father of her bereavement, and received
promptly from Horatio a long, rambling letter, full of warm sympathy and
consolation of the religious sort. "We must remember, dear daughter,
that these earthly losses in our affections are laid upon us for our
spiritual good," etc. Milly smiled at the thoroughness with which her
volatile father had absorbed the style of the Reverend Herman Bowler of
the Second Presbyterian. To Milly's surprise, there was not a word of
practical help, beyond a vague invitation,--"I hope we shall see you
some day in our simple home in Elm Park. Josephine, I'm sure, will
welcome you and my granddaughter."

Milly very much doubted whether the hard-featured Josephine would
welcome her husband's widowed daughter. In fact she saw the fear of
Josephine in her father's restrained letter. She contemplated a return
to Chicago as a last resort, but it was sad to feel that she wasn't
wanted....

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