"Has father telephoned?" was her first brief question.

"No, he hasn't yet."

Undine's lips tightened, but she proceeded deliberately with the removal
of her habit.

"You'd think I'd asked him to buy me the Opera House, the way
he's acting over a single box," she muttered, flinging aside her
smartly-fitting coat. Mrs. Spragg received the flying garment and
smoothed it out on the bed. Neither of the ladies could "bear" to have
their maid about when they were at their toilet, and Mrs. Spragg had
always performed these ancillary services for Undine.

"You know, Undie, father hasn't always got the money in his pocket, and
the bills have been pretty heavy lately. Father was a rich man for Apex,
but that's different from being rich in New York."

She stood before her daughter, looking down on her appealingly.

Undine, who had seated herself while she detached her stock and
waistcoat, raised her head with an impatient jerk. "Why on earth did we
ever leave Apex, then?" she exclaimed.

Mrs. Spragg's eyes usually dropped before her daughter's inclement gaze;
but on this occasion they held their own with a kind of awe-struck
courage, till Undine's lids sank above her flushing cheeks.

She sprang up, tugging at the waistband of her habit, while Mrs. Spragg,
relapsing from temerity to meekness, hovered about her with obstructive