ck and wept. Ethel was mentally hoping that Aunt Susan would
purchase some modern clothes or that none of her fashionable friends
would meet her, for among them were some who would laugh at the old
lady, and the girl felt that she'd die of mortification and anger,--not
the girls with whom she was intimate and who came to see her daily, but
the girls who belonged to the exclusive set, and with whom Ethel and her
friends seldom went as they were much younger.

The day following Mrs. Hollister phoned for a taxi, and to Ethel's
horror she ordered an open one. Ethel was to take Aunt Susan and
Grandmother for a drive. She dared not demur. Had she not promised her
father to do everything for Aunt Susan? Could she hurt her dear
grandmother's feelings? And last of all, she would not admit to her
mother the fact that she was ashamed of Aunt Susan's appearance. No, so
she went.

As it was early in April and cool, upon this occasion Aunt Susan wore
ear tabs, over which she tied a thick, green veil, when it grew warmer
in the sunshine she removed the veil. They drove up Riverside to Grant's
Tomb, where Aunt Susan insisted upon getting out. Fortunately Ethel
encountered no one whom she knew, but as they were driving up Lafayette
Boulevard they passed Estelle Mason, one of her swell friends. The
chills ran up and down Ethel's spine, while she sat with her lips
compressed. The girl bowed and deliberately giggled. Even grandmother,
who looked lovely, grew red. But Aunt Susan seemed not to notice it.

"I am a snob just like mother," thought the girl. "I ought to be ashamed
of myself. I'll never speak to Estelle again, the rude upstart! They
say she prides herself on her family, but I can't see that her good
blood has made a lady of her," and into Ethel's eyes came tears.

"Ethel, my dear," said Aunt Susan, "you're looking badly. Your cheeks
are flushed. Do you feel ill?"

"No, Aunt Susan," she replied. "I always grow red when riding in the
wind."

Grandmother had seen it all and pitied the girl.

"Deafness comes early in the Carpenter family," persisted Aunt Susan.
"Here, take this veil, dear, do, and tie it over your ears."

But Ethel declined, and to her joy the ride was soon over.

In the privacy of her room Grandmother Hollister confided to Ethel that
really Aunt Susan ought to dress differently.

"I understand how you felt, dear," she continued, "when you met that
rude Mason girl and she laughed, but there's bad blood the