"You don't get the idea, Auntie," Sandy said blithely. "Mother pays
for efficiency. Justine isn't a mere extra pair of hands; she's a
trained professional worker. She's just like a stenographer, except
that what she does is ten times harder to learn than stenography. We
can no more ask her to get tea than Dad could ask his head
bookkeeper to--well, to drop in here some Sunday and O.K. Mother's
household accounts. It's an age of specialization, Aunt Martha."

"It's an age of utter nonsense," Mrs. Otis said forcibly. "But if
your mother and father like to waste their money that way--"

"There isn't much waste of money to it," Mrs. Salisbury put in
neatly, "for Justine manages on less than I ever did. I think
there's been only one week this fall when she hasn't had a balance."

"A balance of what?"

"A surplus, I mean. A margin left from her allowance."

The pink wool fell heavily into Mrs. Otis's broad lap. "She handles
your money for you, does she, Sally?"

"Why, yes. She seems eminently fitted for it. And she does it for a
third less, Mattie, truly. She more than saves the difference in her
wages."

"You let her buy things and pay tradesmen, do you ?"

"Oh, Auntie, why not?" Alexandra asked, amused but impatient. "Why