Mrs. Willard White, late one evening, when Mr. White was finishing a
book and a cigar in their handsome bedroom, and she was at her
dressing-table.

"Caterers," submitted Mr. White, turning a page.

"I suppose so," his wife agreed. After a thoughtful silence she
added, "Sue Adams says that she supposes that when a woman has as
much money as that she loses all interest in spending it!
Personally, I don't see how she can entertain a great big man like
Von Praag in that old-fashioned house. She never seems to think of
it at all, she never apologizes for it, and she talks as if nobody
ever bought new things until the old were worn out!"

Her eyes went about her own big bedroom as she spoke. Nothing old-
fashioned here! Even eighteen years ago, when the Whites were
married, their home had been furnished in a manner to make the Holly
Hall of to-day look out of date. Mrs. White shuddered now at the
mere memory of what she as a bride had thought so beautiful: the
pale green carpet, the green satin curtains, the white-and-gold
chairs and tables and bed, the easels, the gilded frames! Seven or
eight years later she had changed all this for a heavy brass
bedstead, and dark rugs on a polished floor, and bird's-eye maple
chests and chairs, and all feminine Santa Paloma talked of the
Whites' new things. Six or seven years after that again, two
mahogany beds replaced the brass one, and heavy mahogany bureaus
with glass knobs had their day, with plain net curtains and old-
fashioned woven rugs. But all these were in the guest-rooms now, and
in her own bedroom Mrs. White had a complete set of Circassian
walnut, heavily carved, and ornamented with cunningly inset panels