help to his mother. Alfred lost one position after another because
he drank, and Ma, upon whose father's table wine had been quite a
matter of course, could not understand why a little too much
drinking should be taken so seriously by Alfie's employers, and why
they could not give the boy another--and another, and another--
chance. Ma never alluded, herself, to this little weakness of
Alfie's. He was still her darling, the one son she had left, the
last of the Lancasters.

But, as the years went on, she grew to be less of the shrinking
Southern lady, more the boarding-house keeper. If she wrote no
bills, she kept them pretty straight in her head, and only her
endless courage and industry kept the crazy enterprise afloat, and
the three idle girls comfortable and decently dressed.
Theoretically, they "helped Ma." Really, one well-trained servant
could have done far more than Mary Lou, Virginia and Georgie did
between them. This was, of course, primarily her own fault. Ma
belonged to the brisk and bustling type that shoves aside a pair of
eager little hands, with "Here, I can do that better myself!" She
was indeed proud of the fact that Mary Lou, at thirty-six, could not
rent a room or receipt a bill if her life were at stake. "While I'm
here, I'll do this, dear," said Ma, cheerfully. "When I'm gone
you'll have quite enough to do!"

Susan entered a small, square entrance-hall, papered in arabesques
of green against a dark brown, where a bead of gas flickered
dispiritedly in a red glass shade over the newel post. Some fly-
specked calling cards languished in the brass tray of an enormous
old walnut hat-rack, where several boarders had already hung wraps
and hats.