Sneed is. Not good enough? Why, my name on a cheque is----"

"It isn't a question of cheques, papa," wailed the girl; "it's a
question of society. I was a painter's model before I married Ed., and,
no matter how rich I am, society won't have anything to do with me."

The old man absent-mindedly rubbed his chin, which was a habit he had
when perplexed. He was face to face with a problem entirely outside his
province. Suddenly a happy thought struck him.

"Those Sneed women!" he said in tones of great contempt, "what do
_they_ amount to, anyhow? They're nothing but sour old maids. They
never were half so pretty as you. Why should you care whether they
called on you or not."

"They represent society. If they came, others would."

"But society can't have anything against you. Nobody has ever said a
word against your character, model or no model."

The girl shook her head hopelessly.

"Character does not count in society."

In this statement she was of course absurdly wrong, but she felt bitter
at all the world. Those who know society are well aware that character
counts for everything within its sacred precincts. So the unjust remark
should not be set down to the discredit of an inexperienced girl.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," cried the old man, brightening up. "I'll