Little Mary cried shrilly above my wife’s attempt at sympathetic conversation with Nathan to inform her father what particular portion of the roast she desired and what vegetables and what drinkables. Finally Nat could stand it no longer. Milly being out of earshot, he frankly apologized for the child. But I read behind his apology the heartache of a tired man who did his best to train his child as opportunity offered and he himself had enlightenment. But a man at business ninety per cent. of the time may easily have much good work discounted by a child’s propinquity with an unbred mother. He ended finally by telling the child that another word from it would earn instant dismissal from the board. That worked admirably until Milly’s appearance when the roast was almost finished. Little Mary then recounted to her mother what her father had instructed her, etc., etc. I will forbear a detailed account of that dinner. It was an ordeal. The table was crammed with dishes, there was no one to take away emptied plates and nowhere to set them. Nathan had to arise and take them away himself. Twice little Mary scrambled down and followed him into the kitchen, leaving Mary Ann and myself alone and feeling rather foolish. Mary Ann settled down into an hour of agony. Little Mary pushed her food upon her broad fork with her fingers. She threw back her head and sucked the last drop from her water glass. She arose in her high chair, would have stood upon it and reached for her own butter if Nathan had not stopped her. Milly was in her place by this time and Nathan asked her if she couldn’t “see to little Mary.” Whereat Milly smoothed back the child’s hair, fiddled with a hairpin to twine the hair up from the child’s eyes, patted it and said bless her, she was mother’s little daughter, wasn’t she, and was remembering her manners, wasn’t she, too; and little Mary agreed that she was remembering her manners and demanded to know if mamma had yet “let on” to Uncle Billy that they had ice cream among other items for dessert. The dessert came at last, about the time when I was wondering if Mary Ann were going to live to partake of it. “We’ve got some cheese, that horribly smelly kind that Nat likes so well, if anybody wants any of it but him,” was Milly’s final comment anent a most delectable Camembert. “Yeah!” piped up Mary. “And it comes in a wooden box and when you take the cover off it, you could almost think there was sompin’ dead inside it!” We got away from the table. Mary Ann went home and to bed, and if I could have spared the time, I would have had Doctor Johnson “fix me up” too. What was it Nathan had told himself that night in the office when he had gazed upon Milly after the Carol Gardner disappointment?—Something about “one woman being as good as another?” Sex versus Ladyhood.