than her mother of practical affairs, did not appreciate
the wisdom, not to say the necessity, of what he
wished to do, but soon she saw that he was right, that
the servants must go, that the horses and carriages and
the motors must be sold. When she was convinced
and had convinced her mother, she still did not realize
what the thing really meant. Not until she no longer
had a maid did she comprehend. To a woman who has
never had a maid, or who has taken on a maid as a
luxury, it will seem an exaggeration to say that Mildred
felt as helpless as a baby lying alone in a crib before it
has learned to crawl. Yet that is rather an understatement
of her plight. The maid left in the afternoon.
Mildred, not without inconveniences that had in the
novelty their amusing side, contrived to dress that
evening for dinner and to get to bed; but when she awakened
in the morning and was ready to dress, the loss of
Therese became a tragedy. It took the girl nearly four
hours to get herself together presentably--and then,
never had she looked so unkempt. With her hair, thick
and soft, she could do nothing.

``What a wonderful person Therese was!'' thought
she. ``And I always regarded her as rather stupid.''
Her mother, who had not had a maid until she was
about thirty and had never become completely dependent,
fared somewhat better, though, hearing her moans,
you would have thought she was faring worse.

Mildred's unhappiness increased from day to day, as