holding her to it was nonsense!

Ruffled, she went up to her room. Justine had carried away the
breakfast tray, but there were towels and bath slippers lying about,
a litter of mail on the bed, and Mr. Salisbury's discarded linen
strewn here and there. The dressers were in disorder, window
curtains were pinned back for more air, and the coverings of the
twin beds thrown back and trailing on the floor. Fifteen minutes'
brisk work would have straightened the whole, but Mrs. Salisbury
could not spare the time just then. The morning was running away
with alarming speed; she must be dressed for a meeting at eleven
o'clock, and, like most women of her age, she found dressing a slow
and troublesome matter; she did not like to be hurried with her
brushes and cold creams, her ruffles and veil.

The thought of the unmade beds did not really trouble her when, trim
and dainty, she went off in a friend's car to the club at eleven
o'clock, but when she came back, nearly two hours later, it was
distinctly an annoyance to find her bedroom still untouched. She was
tired then, and wanted her lunch; but instead she replaced her
street dress with a loose house gown, and went resolutely to work.

Musing over her solitary luncheon, she found the whole thing a
little absurd. There was still the drawing-room to be put in order,
and no reason in the world why Justine should not do it. The girl
was not overworked, and she was being paid thirty-seven dollars and
fifty cents every month! Justine was big and strong, she could toss
the little extra work off without any effort at all.

She wondered why it is almost a physical impossibility for a nice