front dining-room in the basement. The lower hall was dark and
draughty, and smelled of boiling vegetables. There was a telephone
on a little table, close by the dining-room door, and a slender,
pretty young woman was seated before it. She put her hand over the
transmitter, as they came downstairs, and said in a smiling whisper,
"Hello, darling!" to Susan. "Shut the door," she added, very low,
"when you go into the dining-room."

Susan nodded, and Georgianna Lancaster returned at once to her
telephoned conversation.

"Yes, you did!" said she, satirically, "I believe that! ... Oh, of
course you did! ... And I suppose you wrote me a note, too, only I
didn't get it. Now, listen, why don't you say that you forgot all
about it, I wouldn't care ... Honestly, I wouldn't ... honestly, I
wouldn't ... Yes, I've heard that before ... No, he didn't either,
Rose was furious. ... No, I wasn't furious at all, but at the same
time I didn't think it was a very gentlemanly way to act, on your
part ..."

Susan and Mary Lou went into the dining-room, and the closing door
shut off the rest of the conversation. The household was quite used
to Georgie's quarrels with her male friends.

A large, handsome woman, who did not look her sixty years, was
moving about the long table, which, spread with a limp and slightly
spotted cloth, was partially laid for dinner. Knives, spoons, forks
and rolled napkins were laid in a little heap at each place, the
length of the table was broken by salt shakers of pink and blue
glass, plates of soda crackers, and saucers of green pickles.