leisure when she herself was busy. It was always exasperating, when
perhaps making beds upstairs, to glance from the window and see
Justine starting for market, her handsome figure well displayed in
her long dark coat, her shining braids half hidden by her simple yet
dashing hat.

"I walked home past Perry's," Justine would perhaps say on her
return, "to see their prize chrysanthemums. They really are
wonderful! The old man took me over the greenhouses himself, and
showed me everything!"

Or perhaps, unpacking her market basket by the spotless kitchen
table, she would confide innocently:

"Samuels is really having an extraordinary sale of serges this
morning. I went in, and got two dress lengths for my sister's
children. If I can find a good dressmaker, I really believe I'll
have one myself. I think"--Justine would eye her vegetables
thoughtfully--"I think I'll go up now and have my bath, and cook
these later."

Mrs. Salisbury could reasonably find no fault with this. But an
indescribable irritation possessed her whenever such a conversation
took place. The coolness!--she would say to herself, as she went
upstairs--wandering about to shops and greenhouses, and quietly
deciding to take a bath before luncheon! Why, Mrs. Salisbury had had
maids who never once asked for the use of the bathroom, although
they had been for months in her employ.

No, she could not attack Justine on this score. But she began to