t business--it seems all twisted! I'd rather you'd pay an
assistant to go off on these out-of-town trips, and we'd get along on
less money--live in a smaller house, and not entertain."

"Oh, Lydia, you talk like a child! How can I talk business with you when
you have such crazy, impractical ideas? It's not just the money an
assistant would cost! Either he'd not be so good as I, and then I'd lose
my reputation for efficiency and my chance for promotion, or else he
_would_ be as good and he'd get the job permanently and divide the field
with me. A man has to look a long way ahead in business!"

"But, Paul, what if he _did_ divide the field with you? What if you
don't get ahead of everybody else, if you'd have time and strength to
think of other things more--you said the other day that you weren't
sleeping well any more, and you're losing your taste for books and music
and outdoors--why, I'd rather live in four rooms right over your office,
so that you wouldn't have that hour lost going and coming--"

Paul broke in with a curt scorn: "Oh, Lydia! What nonsense! Why don't
you propose living in a tent, to save rent?"

"Why I would--I would in a minute if I thought it would make things any
better!" Lydia cried with a desperate simplicity.

At this crowning absurdity, Paul began to laugh, his ill-humor actually
swept away by his amusement at Lydia's preposterous fancies. It was too
foolish to try to reason seriously with her. He put his hand on her
shining dark hair, ruffling it up like a teasing boy. "I guess you'd
better leave the economic status of society alone, Lydia. You might
break something if you go charging around it so fierce."

A call came from the darkness of the hall: "Mis' Hollister!"

"It's Mary," said Paul; "probably you forgot to give her any
instructions about breakfast, in your anxiety about the future of the
world. If you can calm down enough for such prosaic details, do tell her
for the Lord's sake not to put so much salt in the oatmeal as there was
this morning."

Lydia found the negress with her wraps on, glooming darkly, "Mis'
Hollister, I'm gwine to leave," she announced briefly.

Lydia felt for a chair. Mary had promised faithfully to stay through the
winter, until after her confinement. "What's the matter, Mary?"

"I cyant stay in no house wheah de lady says I drinks."

"You will stay until--until I am able to be about, won't you?"

"My things is gone aready," said Mary, moving heavily to