in the best society to pretend that girls can't do anything without
their mothers' permission? You just remember that. Undine. You mustn't
accept invitations from gentlemen without you say you've got to ask your
mother first."

"Mercy! But how'll mother know what to say?"

"Why, she'll say what you tell her to, of course. You'd better tell her
you want to dine with Mrs. Fairford," Mrs. Heeny added humorously, as
she gathered her waterproof together and stooped for her bag.

"Have I got to write the note, then?" Mrs. Spragg asked with rising
agitation.

Mrs. Heeny reflected. "Why, no. I guess Undine can write it as if it was
from you. Mrs. Fairford don't know your writing."

This was an evident relief to Mrs. Spragg, and as Undine swept to her
room with the note her mother sank back, murmuring plaintively: "Oh,
don't go yet, Mrs. Heeny. I haven't seen a human being all day, and I
can't seem to find anything to say to that French maid."

Mrs. Heeny looked at her hostess with friendly compassion. She was well
aware that she was the only bright spot on Mrs. Spragg's horizon. Since
the Spraggs, some two years previously, had moved from Apex City to New
York, they had made little progress in establishing relations with their
new environment; and when, about four months earlier, Mrs. Spragg's
doctor had called in Mrs. Heeny to minister professionally to his
patient, he had done more for her spirit than for her body. Mrs. Heeny
had had such "cases" before: she knew the rich helpless family, stranded