ught,
"Oh, yes, you're quite a wag, my love; and as soon as you get over being
so young you'll probably make a name for yourself. No dinner or
suffrage party will ever again be quite complete without your droll dry
humour. . . . I suppose I ought to be going to sleep!"

And she yawned excitedly. From somewhere far in the distance there came
to her ears the dull bellowing roar of an ocean liner leaving dock at
one o'clock to start the long journey over the sea.

"I'm going to Paris, too!" she resolved. Her fancy travelled over the
ocean and roamed madly for awhile, with the help of many photographs
which she had seen in magazines. But she wearied of that and soon
returned.

"Well, what do I think of Amy's home?"

She went over in her memory her eager inspection of the apartment. The
rooms had been dark when they arrived; for they had not been expected so
soon, and a somewhat dishevelled Irish maid had opened the door and let
them in. With a quick annoyed exclamation, Amy had switched on the
lights; and room after room as it leaped into view had appeared to
Ethel's eyes like parts of a suite in some rich hotel. And although as
her sister went about moving chairs a bit this way and that and putting
things on the table to rights, it took on a little more the semblance of
somebody's home, still that first impression had remained in Ethel's
mind.

"People have sat in this room," she had thought, "but they haven't lived
here. They haven't sewed or read aloud or talked things out and out and
out."

To her sister she had been loud in her praise. What a perfectly lovely
room it was, what a wonderful lounge with the table behind it, and what
lamps, what a heavenly rug and how well it went with the curtains! When
Amy lighted the gas logs, Ethel had drawn a quick breath of dismay. But
then she had sharply told herself:

"This isn't an old frame house in Ohio, this is a gay little place in
New York! You're going to love it, living here! And you're pretty much
of a kid, my dear, to be criticizing like an old maid!" She had gone
into Amy's room, and there her mood had quickly changed. For the
curtains and the deep soft rug, the broad low dressing table with its
drop-light shaded in chintz, the curious gold lacquered chair, the
powder boxes, brushes, trays, the faint delicious perfume of the place;
and back in the shadow, softly curtained, the low wide luxurious
bed--had given to her the feeling that this room at least was pers