The attraction Jeannette had once felt for him was as dead as though it had never been.
Mrs. Sturgis no longer had to work so hard. She had given up her position as instructor in music at Miss Loughborough’s Concentration School for Little Girls and her work as accompanist for Signor Bellini’s pupils. Jeannette had made her resign from both places. With Alice married and gone, it was better for her mother to stay at home and take charge of the housekeeping. Mrs. Sturgis gave private lessons, now,--a few hours only in the morning or afternoon,--and these, she asserted, were a “real delight.” It left her plenty of time for marketing and for preparing the simple little dinners she and her daughter enjoyed at night. She took the keenest interest in these, and was always planning something new in the way of a surprise for her “darling daughter when she comes home just dead beat out at the end of the day.” Finances were no longer a problem. Jeannette contributed twenty dollars a week to the household expenses while her mother earned as much and sometimes more. She often reminded her daughter she could do even better than that, especially during the winter months, but Jeannette would not hear of her working harder.
“But what’s the use, Mama?” she would ask. “We’ve got everything we want. I can dress as I like on what’s left out of my salary, and there is no sense in your teaching all day. I love the idea of your being free to go to a concert now and then, and Alice’s going to need you a lot when the baby comes and afterwards.”
“That may be all very true, dearie, but I don’t just feel right about having so much time to myself. I could easily do more. There was a lady called this afternoon and just _begged_ me to take her little girl. You know I have all Saturday morning.”
“No,” said Jeannette decisively; “I won’t consider it.”
They were really very comfortably situated, the girl would reflect. Once a week, sometimes oftener, Mrs. Sturgis would be asked to accompany a singer at a recital. That meant five dollars, often ten,--ten whenever Elsa Newman sang. Then there was the twenty she, herself, contributed weekly, and the lessons that brought in an equal amount. Between her mother’s earnings and her own, their income was never less than two hundred and fifty dollars a month. They were rich; they lived in luxury; they need never worry again. Jeannette knew she could remain with Mr. Corey for life if she wanted to; there was no possible danger of her ever losing her job. Her mother fussed about the apartment, cooked delicious meals, took an interest in arranging and managing their little home in a way that previous demands upon her time had never permitted. A new rug was bought for the studio, and some big easy chairs, which they had talked about purchasing for years. The piece of chenille curtaining that had done duty as a table cover so long in the dining-room was supplanted by a square of handsomer material; the leaky drop-light vanished and was replaced by one more attractive and serviceable. More particularly Jeannette had seen to it that her mother got new clothes. Mrs. Sturgis had always favored lavender as the shade most becoming to her, and her daughter bought her a lovely lavender velvet afternoon dress which had real lace down the front and was trimmed with darker lavender velvet ribbon. Some lavender silk waists followed, and a small lavender hat upon which the lilac sprays nodded most ingratiatingly. Mrs. Sturgis was radiant over her new apparel. Her extravagant delight touched the daughter. It was pathetic that so little could give so much intense enjoyment.