It happened that several neighbors came in unexpectedly and stayed to play cards. It was necessary, therefore, to adjourn from the cosy little parlor behind the shop and go up to the drawing-room on the second floor,—a stiff uncomfortable room used only on Sundays and when the family definitely entertained. It smelt of furniture polish, cake and antimacassars. Lola had no patience with cards and helped her mother to make coffee and sandwiches. Miss Breezy, who clung to certain old shibboleths with the pathetic persistence of a limpet, regarded a pack of cards as the instrument of the devil. Besides, she resented the intrusion of every one who put her out of the limelight. Her weekly orgy of talk emptied the cistern of her brain. She suspected something out of the way when Lola suddenly jumped on the sofa like an Angora kitten, snuggled up and began to purr at her side, saying how nice it was to see her, how terribly they would miss her visits, and how well-informed she was. The little head pressed against her bosom was not uncomforting to the childless woman. The warm arm clasped about her shoulder flattered her vanity. But this display of affection was unusual. It drew from her a rather shrewd question. “Well, my dear, and what do you want to get out of me? I know you. This is cupboard love.” She won a gleam of teeth and a twinkle of congratulation from those wide-apart eyes. “How clever you are, Auntie. But it isn’t cupboard love, at least not quite. I want to consult you about my future because you’re so sensible and wise.” “Your future.—Your future is to get married and have babies. That was marked out for you before you began to talk. I never saw such a collection of dolls in a little girl’s room in all my life. A born mother, my dear, that’s what you are. I hope to goodness you have the luck to find the right sort of man in your own walk of life.” Lola shook her head and snuggled a little closer, putting her lips to the spinster’s ear. “There’s plenty of time for that,” she said. “And, anyway, the right man for me won’t be in my own walk of life, as you call it.” “What! Why not?” “Because I want to better myself, as you once said that every girl should do. I haven’t forgotten. I remember everything that _you_ say, Auntie.” “Oh, you do, do you? Well, go on with it.” What a pretty thing she was with her fine skin and red lips and disconcerting nostrils. Clever as a monkey, too, my word. Amazing that Ellen should be her mother!