d."

"That's good news," said Mildred. She began to like the landlady--not
for what she said, but for the free and frank and friendly way of the
saying--a human way, a comradely way, a live-and-let-live way.

"I didn't escape from New England without a struggle," continued Mrs.
Belloc, who was plainly showing that she had taken a great fancy to
"Mary Stevens."

"I suppose it was hard to save the money out of your salary," said
Mildred.

Mrs. Belloc laughed. She was about thirty-five years old, though her
eyes and her figure were younger than that. Her mouth was pleasant
enough, but had lost some of its freshness. "Save money!" cried she.
"I'd never have succeeded that way. I'd be there yet. I had never
married--had two or three chances, but all from poor sticks looking for
someone to support them. I saw myself getting old. I was looking
years older than I do now. Talk about sea air for freshening a woman
up--it isn't in it with the air of New York. Here's the town where
women stay young. If I had come here five years ago I could almost try
for the squab class."

"Squab class?" queried Mildred.

"Yes, squabs. Don't you see them around everywhere?--the women dressed
like girls of sixteen to eighteen--and some of them are that, and
younger. They go hopping and laughing about--and they seem to please
the men and to have no end of a good time. Especially the oldish men.
Oh, yes, you know a squab on sight--tight skirt, low shoes and silk
stockings, cute pretty face, always laughing, hat set on rakishly and
hair done to match, and always a big purse or bag--with a yellow-back
or so in it--as a kind of a hint, I guess."

Mildred had seen squabs. "I've envied them--in a way," said she.
"Their parents seem to let them do about as they please."

"Their parents don't know--or don't care. Sometimes it's one,
sometimes the other. They travel in two sets. One is where they meet
young fellows of their own class--the kind they'll probably marry,
unless they happen to draw the capital prize. The other set they
travel in--well, it's the older men they meet round the swell hotels
and so on--the yellow-back men."

"How queer!" exclaimed Mildred, before whose eyes a new world was
opening. "But how do they--these--squabs--account for the money?"

"How do a thousand and one women in this funny town account at home for
money and things?" retorted Mrs. Belloc. "Nothing's easier. For
instance, often these squabs do-