"I don’t like to say anything that may turn out to Janet’s disadvantage," said Emily, with an effect of reluctance that deceived even herself. "It will seem almost like betraying a confidence." "Nonsense, Emily. If evil threatens Janet, it is your duty as a sister to warn me, and my duty as a mother to protect her. Our consciences would reproach us if we failed in this." "But Janet and I were such good friends—would be still, if she had never met those Lorillard tenement people." Emily said this with the bitterness of outraged feelings. It was in a studio in one of the model tenements in Kips Bay, three weeks before, that Janet had met Cornelia and other people of radical tendencies. Emily had once enjoyed a monopoly of Janet’s heroine worship. The friendship between the sisters had cooled some time ago, but Emily had chosen, rather arbitrarily, to look upon the Lorillard incident as the turning point. "I can understand your feelings, my dear," said Mrs. Barr. "Their delicacy does you credit. But if these people you mention—anarchists and Bohemians, I think you called them—are trying to lure my Janet into wicked ways, it is time for a mother to interfere." In spite of these words, she hesitated to read Janet’s letter, open though the envelope was. Her domestic tyranny had its humanly illogical side, and there were certain rules of good breeding which she observed as scrupulously as she imposed them. Not once since her two girls entered High School had she opened their letters or so much as read them by stealth. "You are sure that it comes from one of those tenement persons?" she asked, picking up the letter again. "Oh, yes. I’m sure I recognize the handwriting. But, mother, do you think we ought to read it?" This was the very point Mrs. Barr had been mentally debating. Emily’s feeble protest had the effect of stimulating her to a quick decision. "Nothing could be further from my mind than any wish to pry into Janet’s legitimate private affairs," she said magisterially. "But here is a letter opened by mistake. From what you read by accident we may infer that it throws a light on those recent actions of your sister’s that have caused us all great pain. I shall never let considerations of delicacy or etiquette deter me from an action that my conscience tells me is right." A look of sanctified resignation passed over Emily’s face as her mother took out the enclosure and read the following: Friday morning. Dear Araminta: Have you heard me speak of the Outlaws? They are artists and writers who live beyond the pale of convention, and in an atmosphere painful to the wealthy, purse-proud darlings of our nation. In order to enjoy their outlawry unmolested, they wish to produce club quarters from which artistic elegance is by no means to be banished. Such quarters cost money. To raise the necessary funds a masked ball will take place two weeks from today, and those who come to dance to the tunes must help to pay the piper.