"Oh, you can give two or three big receptions this spring and clear millions off the list. And then a dinner party or two for the more exclusives. You won't need to be out of things till June--with the fashion for loose-fitting evening gowns; you're so slender. And you'll be out again long before Christmas. It's very fortunate having it come at this time of year." Lydia looked rather dazed at this brisk and matter-of-fact disposing of the matter, and seemed about to make a comment, but the bell rang for card-playing to begin and Mrs. Emery hurried to her table. Lydia had meant to ask her mother's sympathy about another matter that for the time was occupying her own thoughts, but there was no other opportunity for further speech between them during the card party--Mrs. Emery devoting herself with her usual competent energy to playing a good game. She played much better bridge than did either of her daughters. She liked cards, liked to excel and always found easy to accomplish what seemed to her worth doing. Marietta also felt that to avoid being "queer" and "different" one had to play a good hand, but, as she herself confessed, it made her "sick" to give up to it the necessary time and thought. As for Lydia, she got rid of her cards as fast as possible, as if with the deluded hope that when they were all played, she might find time for something else. On the afternoon in question her game was more unscientific than usual. Criticism was deterred from articulate expression by the common feeling in regard to her, assiduously fostered by Flora Burgess' continuous references to her in _Society Notes_ as the coming social ruler of Endbury's smart set. There was as yet, to be sure, no visible indication whatever of such a capacity on Lydia's part, but the printed word--particularly Miss Burgess' printed word--was not to be doubted. Madeleine Hollister, however (now soon to be Madeleine Lowdor), was no respecter of personages, past or future. At the appearance of an especially unexpected and disappointing card from her sister-in-law's hand, she pounced upon her with: "Lydia, what _are_ you thinking about?" "My washwoman's grandson," burst out Lydia, laying down her cards with a careless negligence, so that everyone could see the contents of her hand. "Oh, Madeleine! I'm so worried about her, and I wish you'd--" She got no further. Madeleine's shriek of good-natured laughter cut her short like a blow in the face. The other ladies were laughing, too. "Oh, Lydia! You are the most original, unexpected piece in the world!" cried her sister-in-law. "You'll be the death of me!" She appealed to the other players at their table: "Did you ever hear anything come out funnier?"