“Ugh! Lucy, I must say your Chicago climate is awful,” remarked Mrs. Merwent. “I wouldn’t live here for any consideration on earth. I don’t see how you stand it. I can’t understand why so many people stay here when there are other places fit to live in.” “Lots of them can’t help themselves.” “Well, at least I should think that you’d want to live in a little more accessible part of town. It’s practically impossible to get down to the shopping district unless the weather happens to be good.” “We can’t afford to live anywhere closer in.” “Maybe we can some time,” interposed John. “I’ve often thought we ought to try to get a place that was nearer to where respectable people live. Jim Sprague is the one who wished this proposition on us.” “We were as much in for it as he was,” Lucy stated coldly. “May be _you_ were,” retorted John sharply. “And I certainly think, Lucy, that you have the most unfriendly and unattractive set of neighbors. That Mrs. Hamilton that you think so much of, for instance. She has absolutely no taste at all. I wouldn’t be seen on the street with her. Miss Powell is the only one I have met here who is at all congenial.” “Mrs. Hamilton is a good woman and a beautiful mother.” Lucy defended her friend warmly. “A contrast to me,” Nannie suggested bitterly. “I wasn’t comparing her to anybody,” retorted Lucy. “I only meant _I_ wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with her any place.” “Well, anyway it was meant as a rebuke for what I said. You can’t get out of that, Lucy.” “I wasn’t rebuking anybody,” contested Lucy wearily. “Then you shouldn’t make that kind of speeches,” John argued indignantly. “I didn’t start this,” said Lucy rebelliously. “No, but you never miss a chance to give me a dig, no matter what the conversation is about,” Nannie persisted accusingly. “It’s not true!” Lucy flushed angrily. “It is true,” declared John remorselessly. Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. She rose from the table and went into the hall. “_Now_ what’s the matter?” Nannie called after her. Without replying, Lucy mounted the stairs. “Let her go, Nannie, if she wants to lose her temper and pout about nothing again. I might as well get used to this sort of thing now that you’re leaving.” John drummed on the table with his knuckles. Nannie took his hand. “_Dear_ John,” she whispered. “Don’t Mamma want Nannie to go?” asked Dimmie, who was staring curiously at the interchange of glances in which his elders were indulging. “Oh, hell, Dimmie! You go to bed!” John exclaimed nervously, rising and moving to the window where he remained with his back turned. “_You_ are sorry, aren’t you, Jimmie?” Nannie’s voice was full of emotion. “Uh huh, but you’re goin’ to take me with you,” Dimmie replied, with his mouth full. He swallowed hastily.