Under the Harrow

his way, living on Lorraine," said Hope one gloomy afternoon turning away from her typewriter and gathering up her manuscript. "It's outrageous. She could get along fairly well on what she makes, but this thing of taking care of two able-bodied women is too much." "I know," said Bess dismally, looking up from the table that was strewn with her cardboard, and poising her pen in mid-air to the imminent danger of her last sketch. "I suppose I ought to go home, as Mrs. Willis says. Did you hear her this morning ? Anybody would think we were Barnum's ten-thousanddollar beauties to listen to her go on about the temptations and pitfalls which this city provides for the good looking. She spent at least fifteen minutes assuring me that the one thing she and the late lamented ever agreed upon was that this show was not worth the price of admission, and that all its three rings wouldn't furnish sawdust enough to stuff one doll, and after it was stuffed it would be nothing but sawdust.? Oh, is that you, Lorraine ?" "Yes, and I'm glad I arrived in time to hear that disquisition on sawdust. If there is a class of people on earth for whom I have no use, it's the crowd who mourn when they find their dolls stuffed with sawdust. While my doll has anything in it I shall not complain. It is only when she hangs, limp and flat, with nothing to pin her clothes to and dangling china limbs, that you are going to hear the outcry of my anguished soul. What do you expect in a forty-nin...