In this Mrs. Salisbury was unconsciously aided and abetted by her
sister, Mrs. Otis, a large, magnificent woman of forty-five, who had
a masterful and assured manner, as became a very rich and
influential widow. Mrs. Otis had domineered Mrs. Salisbury
throughout their childhood; she had brought up a number of sons and
daughters in a highly successful manner, and finally she kept a
houseful of servants, whom she managed with a firm hand, and
managed, it must be admitted, very well. She had seen the Treasure
many times before, but it was while spending a day in November with
her sister that she first expressed her disapproval of Justine.

"You spoil her, Sarah," said Mrs. Otis. "She's a splendid cook, of
course, and a nice-mannered girl. But you spoil her."

"I? I have nothing to do with it," Mrs. Salisbury asserted promptly.
"She does exactly what the college permits; no more and no less."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Otis said largely, genially. And she exchanged an
amused look with Sandy.

The three ladies were in the little library, after luncheon,
enjoying a coal fire. The sisters, both with sewing, were in big
armchairs. Sandy, idly turning the pages of a new magazine, sat at
her mother's feet. The first heavy rain of the season battered at
the windows.

"Now, that darning, Sally," Mrs. Otis said, glancing at her sister's
sewing. "Why don't you simply call the girl and ask her to do it?
There's no earthly reason why she shouldn't be useful. She's got
absolutely nothing to do. The girl would probably be happier with