CHAPTER III
REBA had never been allowed to attend the public-schools in Ridgefield. They were not considered good enough for her. They were monopolized by the mill-hand children. When the question of Reba's schooling had first come up, Augusta had announced to David that her niece wasn't going to become contaminated by a lot of dirty, ill-kept foreigners, if she had anything to say about the matter. Of course she had a great deal to say. Ever since Reba was seven years old she had been taught by a private teacher at home.
Augusta Morgan was economical in the kitchen; she was economical in the sick-room too, but she had her extravagances. There's as much personality shown in the choice of one's economies, as in the choice of one's amusements. Augusta always scraped her mixing-bowls scrupulously clean. She never threw away a piece of wrapping-paper, nor a string, nor a candle end; and on the few occasions when she was obliged to order food in a restaurant, she always selected eggs hard-boiled, instead of soft, so as not to leave a particle of her money's worth on the dish. But when it came to such things as table-linen, for instance, sheets and towels, dress materials, sealskin coats, or schooling for Reba, she said the best was none too good for her.
Augusta considered herself something of an aristocrat. "Living in a house like this, and rich as you are, David Jerome, I'd be ashamed to send my child to
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