such scruples of conscience or carefully set plans. As they sat over the meal and she listened to the serious discussion between her mother and John on subjects in which she had not the slightest interest, she became impatient.
“Mother, dear,” she said, breaking in. “I must tell you what happened to me this afternoon. Please stop talking shop and bothering about those horrid men in their offices, without souls, who sit there like spiders in webs. Anyone listening to you two would think you were a couple of promoters.”
“I think, Ruth, you might have chosen a better comparison,” remarked Mrs. Morton severely. “What is this wonderful thing that happened?”
Ruth, not a bit abashed at the reproof, went on:
“Well, Hattie and I were snoopin’ around looking for things, you know——”
“My dear, I wish you’d be a little more select in your