“She has,” said Martin Moreland. “I took the pains to see it myself. It’s very big and the letters are most artistic; there’s a glitter about it and it reads: ‘Miss Mahala Spellman will remodel your last year’s gown and hat in the latest Parisian mode. Let her show you how fashionable an expert needle can make you appear.’” “For mercy sake!” said Mrs. Moreland, and then a glint came into her eyes and a look of determination to her face. “Well, I call that pretty nervy,” she said, “for a girl that’s been raised as she has, and has been expecting all her life to go to one of the best colleges in the land this fall, for four years more of pampering, I must say I like her pluck!” Martin Moreland grinned. “I wonder what you’d think,” he said, “if I should tell you what the young lady you admire so much has to say about your son and about me.” And then he told her what had occurred. But he did not tell her that because it had occurred, the writs of attachment had been issued at that time. He finished by saying: “Since you so greatly admire the young lady, by all means be her first patron. I’ve never seen you when either your gown or your hat wouldn’t have been better for an application of Spellman taste.” Mrs. Moreland thought the matter over. “Martin, I wonder at you,” she said slowly. “Of course, it makes me mad to have her treat Junior the lovely way she always has, and then suddenly turn on him like this. I can’t imagine why she did it. I can’t believe she really meant it.” “Junior believes that she meant it,” he said tersely. “Anyway,” said Mrs. Moreland, “I couldn’t possibly follow your suggestion since you issued those attachments and made the foreclosure. It wouldn’t look right for me to be the first, or among the first, to go and offer Mahala work.” Martin Moreland’s laugh was so genuine that he almost convinced his wife of its spontaneity. “Well, it would look good to me,” he said. “It would look like just exactly the right and proper thing.”