"I know we could, Uncle Jimmie," Eleanor said. "Will Uncle Peter come to see us just the same?" It thus befell that on the fourteenth day of the third month of her residence in New York, Eleanor descended into Bohemia. Having no least suspicion of the real state of affairs--for Jimmie, like most apparently expansive people who are given to rattling nonsense, was actually very reticent about his own business--the other members of the sextette did not hesitate to show their chagrin and disapproval at the change in his manner of living. "The Winchester was an ideal place for Eleanor," Beulah wailed. "It's deadly respectable and middle class, but it was just the kind of atmosphere for her to accustom herself to. She was learning to manage herself so prettily. This morning when I went to the studio--I wanted to get the lessons over early, and take Eleanor to see that exhibition of Bavarian dolls at Kuhner's--I found her washing up a trail of dishes in that closet behind the screen--you've seen it, Gertrude?--like some poor little scullery maid. She said that Jimmie had made an omelet for breakfast. If he'd made fifty omelets there couldn't have been a greater assortment of dirty dishes and kettles." Gertrude smiled. "Jimmie made an omelet for me once for which he used two dozen eggs. He kept breaking them until he found the yolks of a color to suit him. He said pale yolks made poor omelets, so he threw all the pale ones away." "I suppose that you sat by and let him," Beulah said. "You would let Jimmie do anything. You're as bad as Margaret is about David." "Or as bad as you are about Peter." "There we go, just like any silly, brainless girls, whose chief object in life is the--the other sex," Beulah cried inconsistently. "Oh! I hate that kind of thing." "So do I--in theory--" Gertrude answered, a little dreamily. "Where do Jimmie and Eleanor get the rest of their meals?" "I can't seem to find out," Beulah said. "I asked Eleanor point-blank this morning what they had to eat last night and where they had it, and she said, 'That's a secret, Aunt Beulah.' When I asked her why it was a secret and who it was a secret with, she only looked worried, and said she guessed she wouldn't talk about it at all because that was the only way to be safe about tattling. You know what I think--I think Jimmie is taking her around to the cafes and all the shady extravagant restaurants. He thinks it's sport and it keeps him from getting bored with the child." "Well, that's one way of educating the young," Gertrude said, "but I think you are wrong, Beulah." CHAPTER VII ONE DESCENT INTO BOHEMIA