eral housekeeper who represented waste in the kitchen. Now she was doing her own cooking, with Lena, a young Swedish girl, at three dollars a week to help in the kitchen, wash dishes and take the children for their daily airing on Riverside Drive, and a laundress one day in the week. No, there was no reducing the force or wages.
And what had Larry said about the purchasing department?
"Buy to better advantage. Find a new market."
She shuddered at the thought. Had she not bought a lot of canned goods at a department store sale, only to find that they were "seconds" and tasteless? Hadn't Aunt Myra induced her to buy poultry, eggs and cheese from the man who ran Uncle Jack's farm on shares, with the result that one-third of the eggs were broken through poor packing, and they had to live on poultry for days interminable—or have it spoil on their hands?
And Mr. Dorlon, the grocer, was so clean and convenient and obliging. She simply could not change, she told herself firmly. And yet,
