Waitresses' Union! Marching in a parade with dear knows who!
Besides--"

"It is very different in Mrs. Sargent's case, dear," said Mrs.
Salisbury simply. "She could afford to do anything, and consequently
it doesn't matter what she does! It doesn't matter what you do, if
you can afford not to. The point is that we can't really afford a
second maid."

"I don't see what that has to do with it!" said the girl of the
coming generation cheerfully.

"It has EVERYTHING to do with it," the woman of the passing
generation answered seriously.

"As far as Owen goes," Sandy went on thoughtfully, "I'm only too
much afraid he's the other way. What do you suppose he's going to do
now? He's going to establish a little Neighborhood House for boys
down on River Street, 'The Cyrus Sargent Memorial.' And, if you
please, he's going to LIVE there! It's a ducky house; he showed me
the blue-prints, with the darlingest apartment for himself you ever
saw, and a plunge, and a roof gymnasium. It's going to cost,
endowment and all, three hundred thousand dollars--"

"Good heavens!" Mrs. Salisbury said, as one stricken.

"And the worst of it is," Alexandra pursued, with a sympathetic
laugh for her mother's concern, "that he'll meet some Madonna-eyed
little factory girl or laundry worker down there and feel that he
owes it to her to--"