At Matthew’s little laugh, which seemed so perfectly comprehending of all the jealousies in Fliss’s mind, she flushed angrily. For a moment she seemed about to say something, but she did not. It was Matthew who spoke. “Not worthy of you, Fliss.” “I know. It was stupid and jealous, but I get so tired of the eternal virtuousness of Cecily. Those with the servant mind may like it, but it bores me to death. She’s so always right.” “She’s always so right,” corrected Matthew, teasingly. “Have it your own way. I’d personally sooner be a cheerful sinner than such an unsmiling saint.” She turned at the door. “And if you ask me I think poor Dick feels that way sometimes too.” CHAPTER XVII The cook could not get along with Jenny. Jenny gave notice and acted upon it promptly, deaf to remonstrance, because her young man was going to get her a place as waitress so she wouldn’t “have to lower herself” doing housework. The laundress was ill with influenza and the substitute laundress did not wash the baby’s clothes clean. That was why Mrs. Warner, coming into her daughter’s house one morning in January, found Cecily herself in the laundry bending over a tub of diapers. Cecily was disheveled and a little defiant at her mother’s protest. “I don’t see what else there is to do. If I can’t get help, the children have to have clean clothes, don’t they?” Mrs. Warner, looking as incongruous in the laundry as a person possibly could, shook her head, simply implying that some things like washing diapers were quite impossible. “You shouldn’t do things like this. You ought to manage somehow.” “But how, mother?” “Send the clothes over to my house. Get another laundress.” “There isn’t one to be had for two days, and to send a bundle of clothes across the city is really too silly.” “Make your cook do them.” “And have her leave! No, that would be the last word. I’m through now. Wait until I hang these up and let’s go upstairs.” “Let’s--by all means.” Mrs. Warner led the way upstairs and gazed around the house. It was very orderly, but Cecily looked very tired. “What does Dick say to all this?” “Dick protests, but that doesn’t solve the servant problem.” There was a little edge in Cecily’s tone. “Dick doesn’t like domesticity anyhow if it interferes with his amusements.” “I wouldn’t talk like that. It’s not like you.” Cecily flushed. “Lots of things that didn’t use to be like me are becoming normal. A little more Billingsgate in my manner is only natural after doing the washing, isn’t it?” Her mother did not smile. She looked worried. “You are tired.” “Please don’t say that, mother. Of course I’m tired. Why shouldn’t I be tired? But it isn’t lack of sleep or work that tires me as much as--other things.” “What things?” Mrs. Warner’s questions came not curiously, but reluctantly as if she did not want confidences and was forcing herself to ask for them. “People’s point of view.” By people she meant Dick, and Mrs. Warner knew it. She did not go on.