"Exactly," said Mrs. Watson. "That's you, Hattie, with all the money in the world. Now do you wonder that some of the rest of us, who have to think of money--in short," she finished decidedly, "do you wonder that people are not having children? At first, naturally, one doesn't want them,--for three or four years, I'm sure, the thought doesn't come into one's head. But then, afterwards,--you see, I've been married fifteen years now!--afterwards, I think it would be awfully nice to have one or two little kiddies, if it was a possible thing. But it isn't." "No, it isn't," Mrs. Crawford agreed. "You don't want to have them unless you're able to do everything in the world for them. If I were Hat here, I'd have a dozen." "Oh, no, you wouldn't," Mrs. Carr-Boldt assured her promptly. "No, you wouldn't! You can't leave everything to servants--there are clothes to think of, and dentists, and special teachers, and it's frightfully hard to get a nursery governess. And then you've got to see that they know the right people--don't you know?--and give them parties--I tell you it's a strain." "Well, I don't believe my mother with her seven ever worked any harder than you do!" said Margaret, with the admiration in her eyes that was so sweet to the older woman. "Look at this morning--did you sit down before you came in here twenty minutes ago?" "I? Indeed I didn't!" Mrs. Carr-Boldt said. "I had my breakfast and letters at seven, bath at eight, straightened out that squabble between Swann and the cook,--I think Paul is still simmering, but that's neither here nor there!--then I went down with the vet to see the mare. Joe'll never forgive me if I've really broken the creature's knees!--then I telephoned mother, and saw Harriet's violin man, and talked to that Italian Joe sent up to clean the oils,--he's in the gallery now, and--let's see--" "Italian lesson," Margaret prompted. "Italian lesson," the other echoed, "and then came in here to sign my cheques." "You're so executive, Harriet!" said Mrs. Crawford, languidly. "Apropos of Swann," Margaret said, "he confided to me that he has seven children--on a little farm down on Long Island." "The butler--oh, I dare say!" Mrs. Watson agreed. "They can, because they've no standard to maintain--seven, or seventeen--the only difference in expense is the actual amount of bread and butter consumed."