But of course I couldn't help knowin' who she was and all about her. Ain't the papers always full of her charity doin's, her funds for this and that, and her new discoveries of shockin' things about the poor? Ain't she built up a rep as a lady philanthropist that's too busy doing good to ever get married? Maybe Mrs. Russell Sage and Helen Gould has gained a few laps on her lately; but when it comes to startin' things for the Tattered Tenth there ain't many others that's got much on her. "Gee!" thinks I. "Wonder what she's going to do for me?" I ain't left long in doubt. She backs me up against the desk and cuts loose with the straight talk. "I came in to tell you about my new enterprise, Piny Crest Court," says she. "Apartment house, is it?" says I. "No, no!" says she. "Haven't you read about it? It's to be a white plague station for working girls." "A white--white----Oh! For lungers, eh?" "We never speak of them in that way, you know," says she, handin' me the reprovin' look. "Piny Crest Court is the name I've given to the site. Rather sweet, is it not? Really there are no pines on it, you know; but I shall have a few set out. The buildings are to be perfectly lovely. I've just seen the architect's plans,--four open front cottages grouped around an administration infirmary, the superintendent's office to be finished in white mahogany and gold, and the directors' room in Circassian walnut, with a stucco frieze after della Robbia. Don't you simply love those Robbia bambinos?" "Great!" says I, lyin' as easy and genteel as if I had lots of practice. "I am simply crazy to have the work started," she goes on; "so I am spending three afternoons a week in filling up my lists. Everyone responds so heartily, too. Now, let me see, I believe I have put you down for a life membership." "Eh?" says I, gaspin' some; for it ain't often I'm elected to things. "You will have the privilege of voting for board members and of recommending two applicants a year. A life membership is two hundred and fifty dollars." "You mean I get two-fifty," says I, "for--for just----" Then I came to. And, say, did you ever know such a bonehead? Honest, though, from all I'd heard of the way she spreads her money around, and the patronizin' style she has of puttin' this proposition up to me, I couldn't tell for a minute how she meant it. And when I suddenly surrounds the idea that it's me gives up the two-fifty, I'm so fussed that I drops back into the chair and begins to hunt through the desk for my checkbook. And then I feels myself growin' a little warm behind the ears. "So you just put me down offhand for two hundred and fifty, did you?" says I. "If you wish," says she, "you may take out a life certificate for each member of your family. Several have done that. Let me show you my list of subscribers. See, here are some of the prominent merchants and manufacturing firms. I haven't begun on the brokers and bankers yet; but you will be in good company."