him to work. Dickens says somewhere--and he never said a truer
thing!" pursued the man of the house comfortably, "that, if you
spend a sixpence less than your income every week, you are rich. If
you spend a sixpence more, you never may expect to be anything but
poor!"

Mrs. Salisbury did not answer. She took up her embroidery, whose
bright colors blurred and swam together through the tears that came
to her eyes.

"Never expect to feel anything but poor!" she echoed sadly to
herself. "I am sure I never do! Things just seem to run away with
me; I can't seem to get hold of them. I don't see where it's going
to end!"

"Mother," said Alexandra, coming in from the kitchen, "Marthe says
that all that delicious chicken soup is spoiled. The idiot, she says
that you left it in the pantry to cool, and she forgot to put it on
the ice! Now, what shall we do, just skip soup, or get some beef
extract and season it up?"

"Skip soup," said Mr. Salisbury cheerfully.

"We can't very well, dear," said his wife patiently, "because the
dinner is just soup and a fish salad, and one needs the hot start in
a perfectly cold supper. No. I'll go out."

"Can't you just tell me what to do?" asked Alexandra impatiently.

But her mother had gone. The girl sat on the arm of the deserted