Mrs. Lambert's face rippled with amusement. As her maid took the guest's wrap, Mrs. Lambert linked her arm cordially into that of Miss Esterbrook. "Come, we have just ten minutes to ourselves. I want you to sit by me, and confidentially tell me just how wicked I am--for I adore 'Bridge!'" Edith felt the charm of the elder woman, and she smiled brightly as they seated themselves in the cozy window seat. "I fear I could not persuade you," she said thoughtfully, "We all look at things from different standpoints, do we not?" "Then from what standpoint could you prove my 'Bridge' playing wrong?" Mrs. Lambert asked, dropping her playful mood, and becoming momentarily interested. The dark eyes seemed to deepen their color, and an intensely earnest expression pervaded her countenance. "Mrs. Lambert, is not _everything_ a sin which cultivates a small conception of life? Is it not a blight on our social life, that women delight in spending all their spare afternoons in playing cards?" "I see no harm in such a means to sociability. We must have something to bring us together," Mrs. Lambert replied quietly. "You have spoken the truth," Edith returned gravely. "We must have _something_ to bring us together, and that _something_ has by common consent become a profitless game of cards. Where has that spirit of womanhood flown that prompted our mothers and grandmothers to gather together in sewing bees, or in musical cliques, or even in reading afternoons?" Mrs. Lambert puckered her brow in mock despair. "O, my dear girl, you find fault with us for taking life a little easier than our grandmothers, who used to work even in their playtime, while their husbands sat by and smoked. I really think that we ought to congratulate ourselves that we have learned to enjoy ourselves a little and let the men do the hustling." Edith relaxed her thoughts and smiled slightly. "I see you are determined to be amused at me," she said pleasantly. "There may come a day when women will find a still greater way to enjoy life. I am not so sure that we are happier for your boasted advancement." "Not happier, but less unhappy," Mrs. Lambert returned with the slightest shade in her laughing eyes. "Ah; that is it!" the girl responded eagerly. "But won't you drop these wasteful days? Why don't you choose the _happiest_, the _best_?" She had forgotten herself in her enthusiasm, and had leaned forward, placing her hand on the other's arm detainingly. Mrs. Lambert's petulant frown gathered quickly. "You speak as though persuading me from some fearful sin," she returned coldly. Edith drew her hand away and a crimson flush surmounted her face. "Pardon me, Mrs. Lambert, I speak too freely. You are offended. But I thought that you wouldn't mind." For a moment Mrs. Lambert looked intently down at the girl's downcast face. The frown slowly vanished. Then the old sunny smile came back, and her hand impulsively sought that of Edith's.