Psychologists tell us that the character of early environment forever afterwards drives a person to haunts related in some way or another to these surroundings. Perhaps such motives cause the murderer inevitably to return to the scene of his crime, or Hitler at the pinnacle of world power to indulge in painting during his leisure hours. Only those who have spent four years eating Mr.Westcott's prime ribs and ragout of lamb can comprehend the forces which drove to her present posient position the head waitress of one of our Houses, which for obvious reasons shall be nameless.

During the founding of the Houses, when most of her kind were selling china bowls in summer tea-rooms or setting permanents in bustling beauty parlors, this lady stayed for from the madding throng, engaged in no less worthy a profession than that of undertaker. It was nice work, if you could get it, she often says, and even now she finds it impossible to break with the past. Her most treasured possession from the dear, dead days is her embalmer's license, which she faithfully renews every time it expires. When asked why, she replies wistfully, "Just sentiment, I guess."