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THE CITY OF MASKS

gay spring bonnet that bedecked her daughter-in-law. "You ought to be fired for what you did last night, but you are not. Do you understand? Now, shut up, Dolly! It doesn't matter if I did say I was going to fire him. I've changed my mind."

"You are too late," said the younger Mrs. Millidew coolly. "I've just engaged him. He comes to me at—"

"You little snake!"

"Ladies, I beg of you—"

"The next time I let him go gallivanting off with you for a couple of days—and nights,—you'll know it," cried the elder Mrs. Millidew, furiously. "I can see what you've been up to. You've been doing everything in your power to get him away from me—"

"Just what do you mean to insinuate. Mother Millidew?" demanded the other, her voice rising.

"My God!" cried Trotter's employer, straightening her figure and facing the other. Something like horror sounded in her cracked old voice. "Could—my God!—could it be possible?"

"Speak plainly! What do you mean?"

Mrs. Millidew, the elder, advanced her mottled face until it was but a few inches from that of her daughter-in-law.

"Where were you last night?" she demanded harshly.

There was a moment of utter silence. Trotter, down below, caught his breath.

Then, to his amazement, Mrs. Millidew the younger, instead of flying into a rage, laughed softly, musically.

"Oh, you are too rich for words," she gurgled. "I