When Miss Georgie McEnders had finished an elaborately simple toilet* of gray and black, she divested herself completely of rings, bangles, brooches -- everything to suggest that she stood in friendly relations with fortune. For Georgie was going to read a paper upon "The Dignity of Labor" before the Woman's Reform Club;* and if she was blessed with an abundance of wealth, she possessed a no less amount of good taste.
Before entering the neat victoria that stood at her father's toosumptuous door -- and that was her special property -- she turned to give certain directions to the coachman. First upon the list from which she read was inscribed: "Look up Mademoiselle Salambre."
"James," said Georgie, flushing a pretty pink, as she always did with the slightest effort of speech, "we want to look up a person named Mademoiselle Salambre, in the southern part of town, on Arsenal street,"* indicating a certain number and locality. Then she seated herself in the carriage, and as it drove away proceeded to study her engagement list further and to knit her pretty brows in deep and complex thought.
"Two o'clock -- look up M. Salambre," said the list. "Threethirty -- read paper before Woman's Ref. Club. Four-thirty --" and here followed cabalistic abbreviations which meant: "Join committee of ladies to investigate moral condition of St. Louis factory-girls.* Six o'clock -- dine with papa. Eight o'clock -- hear Henry George's lecture on Single Tax."*
So far, Mademoiselle Salambre was only a name to Georgie McEnders, one of several submitted to her at her own request by her furnishers, Push and Prodem, an enterprising firm charged with the construction of Miss McEnder's very elaborate trousseau. Georgie liked to know the people who worked for her, as far as she could.
She was a charming young woman of twenty-five, though almost too white-souled for a creature of flesh and blood. She possessed