setting tables and feeding families--or whether it is good form for the
host to suggest another service at the dinner table."

"There are twenty million homes in America," I answered. "Only eight
per cent of these have servants in them. In the other ninety-two per
cent the women do their own housework; bring up their own children, and
take an active part in the life and growth of America. They are the
people who help make this country the great nation that it is."

After luncheon one of the guests, a woman of great social prominence,
distinguished both in her own country and abroad, asked me to drive
downtown with her. When we entered her car she said, with much
feeling--"You must go on with the thing you are doing."

Believing she referred to the Curie campaign, I replied that I had
committed myself to the work and could not abandon it. "I was not
referring to the Curie campaign," she replied, "but to the Delineator.
You are right; it is of vital importance to serve the great masses of
people. I know. It will probably surprise you to learn that when I was
fourteen years old I had never seen a table napkin. My family were
pioneers in the Northwest and were struggling for mere existence. There
was no time for the niceties of life. And yet, people like my family
and myself are worth serving and saving. I have known what it means to
lie awake all night, suffering with shame because of some stupid social
blunder which had made me appear ridiculous before my husband's family
or his friends."

This was a most amazing statement from a woman known socially on two
continents, and famed for her savoir faire. There were tears in her
eyes when she made her confession. She was stirred by a very real and