"You're a darling child," the mother would say gratefully.

"Darling nothing!" And Sandy, with her protest, would lay a cool
cheek against her mother's hot one. "Do you have to stay out here,
Mother?" she would ask resentfully. "Can't the Culled Lady do this?"

"Well, I left her to watch it, and it burned," Mrs. Salisbury would
say, "so now it has to be pared and frosted. Such a bother! But this
is the very last thing, dear. You run along; I'll be out of here in
two minutes!"

But it was always something more than two minutes. Sometimes even
Kane Salisbury was led to protest.

"Can't we eat less, dear? Or differently? Isn't there some simple
way of managing this week-end supper business? Now, Brewer--Brewer
manages it awfully well. He has his man set out a big cold roast or
two, cheese, and coffee, and a bowlful of salad, and beer. He'll get
a fruit pie from the club sometimes, or pastries, or a pot of
marmalade--"

"Yes, indeed, we must try to simplify," Mrs. Salisbury would agree
brightly. But after such a conversation as this she would go over
her accounts very soberly indeed. "Roasts--cheeses--fruit pies!" she
would say bitterly to herself. "Why is it that a man will spend as
much on a single lunch for his friends as a woman is supposed to
spend on her table for a whole week, and then ask her what on earth
she has done with her money!"

"Kane, I wish you would go over my accounts," she said one evening,