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158
THE CITY OF MASKS

recriminations. Thirty-one days in this month. Thirty-one into one hundred goes how many times?"

"I beg pardon," said the girl, puzzled. "Thirty-one into one hundred?"

"Can't you do sums? It's perfectly simple. Any school child could do it in a—in a jiffy."

"Quite simple," murmured her husband. "I worked it out for Mrs. Smith-Parvis in no time at all. Three dollars and twenty-two and a half cents a day. Perfectly easy, if you—"

"I am sure it is quite satisfactory," said Miss Emsdale coldly.

"Very well. Here is a check for the amount," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis, laying the slip of paper on the end of the library table. "And now. Miss Emsdale, I feel constrained to tell you how gravely disappointed I am in you. For half-a-year I have laboured under the delusion that you were a lady, and qualified to have charge of two young and innocent—"

"Oh, Lord," groaned Stuyvesant, fidgeting in his chair.

"—young and innocent girls. I find, however, that you haven't the first instincts of a lady. I daresay it is too much to expect." She sighed profoundly. "I know something about the lower classes in London, having been at one time interested in settlement work there in connection with Lady Bannistell's committee, and I am aware that too much should not be expected of them. That is to say, too much in the way of—er—delicacy. Still, I thought you might prove to be an exception. I have learned my lesson. I shall in the future engage only German governesses. From time to time I