week, and send enough home to make it worth while for the tradesman.
You couldn't market as I do, Mrs. Salisbury, but the tradespeople
rather expect it of a maid. Sometimes I gather an assortment of
vegetables into my basket, and get them to make a price on the
whole. Or, if there is a sale at any store, I go there, and order a
dozen cans, or twenty pounds of whatever they are selling."

Mrs. Salisbury was not enjoying this revelation. The obnoxious term
"upper middle class" was biting like an acid upon her pride. And it
was further humiliating to contemplate her maid as a driver of
bargains, as dickering for baskets of vegetables.

"The best is always the cheapest in the long run, whatever it may
cost, Justine," she said, with dignity. "We may not be among the
richest families in town," she was unable to refrain from adding,
"but it is rather amusing to hear you speak of the family as upper
middle class!"

"I only meant the--the sort of ordering we did," Justine hastily
interposed. "I meant from the grocer's point of view."

"Well, Mr. Lewis sold groceries to my grandmother before I was
married," Mrs. Salisbury said loftily, "and I prefer him to any
other grocer. If he is too far away, the order may be telephoned. Or
give me your list, and I will stop in, as I used to do. Then I can
order any little extra delicacy that I see, something I might not
otherwise think of. Let me know what you need to-morrow morning, and
I'll see to it."

To her surprise, Justine did not bow an instant assent. Instead the