you CAN'T have what you ought to as long as he doesn't get out of that
horrible place. It provides bare food and shelter for us, but what's
that?"

"I don't think we ought to try any more to change him."

"You don't?" Mrs. Adams came and stood before her. "Listen, Alice: your
father's asleep; that's his trouble, and he's got to be waked up. He
doesn't know that things have changed. When you and Walter were little
children we did have enough--at least it seemed to be about as much
as most of the people we knew. But the town isn't what it was in those
days, and times aren't what they were then, and these fearful PRICES
aren't the old prices. Everything else but your father has changed, and
all the time he's stood still. He doesn't know it; he thinks because
they've given him a hundred dollars more every two years he's quite a
prosperous man! And he thinks that because his children cost him more
than he and I cost our parents he gives them--enough!"

"But Walter----" Alice faltered. "Walter doesn't cost him anything at
all any more." And she concluded, in a stricken voice, "It's all--me!"

"Why shouldn't it be?" her mother cried. "You're young--you're just at
the time when your life should be fullest of good things and happiness.
Yet what do you get?"

Alice's lip quivered; she was not unsusceptible to such an appeal, but
she contrived the semblance of a protest. "I don't have such a bad time
not a good DEAL of the time, anyhow. I've got a good MANY of the things
other girls have----"

"You have?" Mrs. Adams was piteously satirical. "I suppose you've got
a limousine to go to that dance to-night? I suppose you've only got
to call a florist and tell him to send you some orchids? I suppose
you've----"

But Alice interrupted this list. Apparently in a single instant all
emotion left her, and she became businesslike, as one in the midst of
trifles reminded of really serious matters. She got up from the bed
and went to the door of the closet where she kept her dresses. "Oh, see
here," she said, briskly. "I've decided to wear my white organdie if you
could put in a new lining for me. I'm afraid it'll take you nearly all
afternoon."

She brought forth the dress, displayed it upon the bed, and Mrs. Adams
examined it attentively.

"Do you think you could get it done, mama?"

"I don't see why not," Mrs. Adams answered, passing a thoughtful hand
over the fabric. "It oughtn't to take more than four or five hours."

"It's