ally, although she had always said "Ethel" before.
But her tone made it sound like, "Well, kid, here I am. Now let's see
what kind of a mess it is you want me to get you out of."

With the aid of a book entitled, "How To Live Well On Little," together
they puzzled and contrived.

"The things that have gone on in this kitchen," Emily muttered more than
once, as her sharp grey eyes peered here and there, now into drawers and
closets, now at the many unpaid bills. "When that cook of yours wasn't
grafting she must have been getting drunk on your wine." As the record
was unfolded of years of careless extravagance, Ethel would frown and
turn away, for it seemed disloyal to pry so deep. Poor Amy was dead and
buried.

With Emily she went marketing, and they beat down and bullied mankind.
Emily was so good at that. And at home they worked out a schedule of
housekeeping on a rigidly economical scale, dividing the work between
them. All this was rather pleasant. The trouble came in the nursery,
where more than once the face of the stricken woman there made it hard
to keep one's mind keen and clear for all the intricate details of the
careful mothering in this room, from which barely a sound had ever
gone out to disturb the peace of Amy's home.

But it was soon over. The nurse had taken her departure and Ethel had
moved to the nursery. And now the routine of her day brought such a
change in Ethel's life as deeply affected her future course--though at
first she had but little time to stop for self-analysis. At five in the
morning she was roused by the low, sweet chirrup of Susette, who was
peering over the edge of the crib. And her day from that time on was
filled with a succession of little tasks, which at first puzzled and
wearied her, made her often anxious and cross, but then attracted her
more and more. What a change from the month before, from Mr.
Greesheimer to Susette! She became engrossed in the washing and
dressing and feeding of her tiny charge. Anxiously she watched Susette
for the slightest sign of illness; and in this watching she grew to know
the meaning of certain looks and gestures, baby talk. Susette became a
person, wee but very intimate.

In the park on those lovely days of May, Ethel liked to feel herself a
part of the small world of nurses and mothers who chatted or sewed while
children played and motor cars went purring by. There were little
distractions; for Susette was a sociable creature, and the sma