o unhappy in her whole life. She
thought of living with the Ellridge girls, who were really of a
common cast, and always with Dr. Ellridge at the head of the table,
dictating to her as he had done to-night, in his smooth, slightly
satirical way, and her whole soul rose in revolt. She felt sure that
Dr. Ellridge was not at all in love with her mother, as George Ramsey
might be in love with herself. All the romance had been sucked out of
them both years before. She called to mind again her mother's lined
face, her too aggressive curves, her tightly frizzed hair, and she
knew that she was right. She remembered hearing that Dr. Ellridge's
daughters were none of them domestic, that he had hard work to keep a
house-keeper, that his practice was declining. She remembered how
shabby and mean his little house had looked when she had passed it in
the sleigh with George Ramsey, that very day. She said to herself
that Dr. Ellridge was only marrying her mother for the sake of the
loaves and fishes, for a pretty, well-kept home for himself and his
daughters. Lily had something of a business turn in spite of her
feminity. She calculated how much rent Dr. Ellridge could get for his
own house. That will dress the girls, she thought. She knew that her
mother's income was considerable. Dr. Ellridge would be immeasurably
better off as far as this world's goods went. There was no doubt of
that. Lily felt such a measure of revolt and disgust that it was
fairly like a spiritual nausea. Her own maiden innocence seemed
assaulted, and besides that there was a sense of pitiful grief and
wonder that her mother, besides whom she had nobody in the world,
could so betray her. She was like the proverbial child with its poor
little nose out of joint. She lay and wept like one. The next
morning, when she went down to breakfast, her pretty face was pale
and woe-begone. Her mother gave one defiant glance at her, then
spooned out the cereal with vehemence. Hannah gave a quick, shrewd
glance at her when she set the saucer containing the smoking mess
before her.

"Her mother has told her," she thought. She also thought that she
herself would give notice were it not for poor Miss Lily.

Lily's extreme gentleness, even when she was distressed, was
calculated to inspire faithfulness in every one. Hannah gave more
than one pitying, indignant glance at the girl's pretty, sad face.
Lily did not dream of sulking to the extent of not eating her
breakfast. She ate