"Well, how much, then? Fifty?"

"Fifty, yes. That's quite as much as I expected--more."

"Fifty, Miss Peters; payable to Jane Marshall." She looked at Jane
quizzically. "You _are_ unique, sure enough."

"I want to be fair," protested Jane.

The door closed on Miss Peters. Mrs. Bates dropped her voice. "Did you
ever have a private secretary?"

"Me?" called Jane. "I'm my own."

"Keep it that way," said Mrs. Bates, impressively. "Don't ever change--no
matter how many engagements and appointments and letters and dates you
come to have. You'll never spend a happy day afterwards. Tutors are bad
enough--but, thank goodness, my boys are past that age. And men servants
are bad enough--every time I want to stir in my own house I seem to have
a footman on each toe and a butler standing on my train; however, people
in our position--well, Granger insists, you know. But Minnie
Peters--Minnie Peters is the worst of all. Every so often"--in a low
voice and with her eye on the door--"she has one of her humble days, and
then I want to die. That was what was the matter before you came--I
didn't really mean to seem cross to you. I just have to take her and
shake her and say, 'Now, Minnie Peters, how can you be so bad to me? How
can you think I would do anything to hurt your feelings, when your mother
was my very best friend? Why are you always looking for a chance to find
a slight, when'--Oh, thanks, thanks!--Miss Peters having appeared with