her parasol. It
made you think of some silken white myriad-fluted mushroom of the
dark May woods; and Marguerite did not so much seem to have come
out of the house as out of the garden--to have slept there on its
green moss with the new moon on her eyelids--indeed to have been
born there, in some wise compounded of violets and hyacinths; and
as the finishing touch to have had squeezed into her nature a few
drops of wildwood spritishness.

She started toward the town with a movement somewhat like that of a
tall thin lily stalk swayed by zephyrs--with a lilt, a cadence, an
ever changing rhythm of joy: plain walking on the solid earth was
not for her. At friendly houses along the way she peeped into open
windows, calling to friends; she stooped over baby carriages on the
sidewalk, noting but not measuring their mysteries; she bowed to
the right and to the left at passing carriages; and people leaned
far out to bow and smile at her. Her passage through the town was
somewhat like that of a butterfly crossing a field.

"Will he be there?" she asked. "I did not tell him I was coming,
but he heard me say I should be there at half-past ten o'clock. It
is his duty to notice my least remark."

When she reached her destination, the old town library, she mounted
the lowest step and glanced rather guiltily up and down the street.
Three ladies were going up and two men were going down: no one was
coming toward Marguerite.

"Now, why is he not here? He shall be punished for this."

She paced slowly backward and forward yet a little while. Then she
started resolutely in the direction of a street where most of the
law offices were situated. Turning a corner, she came full upon
Judge, Morris.

"Ah, good morning, good morning," he cried, putting his gold-headed
cane under his arm and holding out both hands. "Where did you
sleep last night? On rose leaves?"

"I was in grandmother's bed when I left off," said Marguerite,
looking up at the rim of her hat.

"And where were you when you began again?"

"Still in grandmother's bed. I think I must have been there all
the time. I know all about your old Blackstone and all that kind
of thing," she continued, glancing at a yellow book under his arm
and speaking with a threat as though he had adjudged her ignorant.

"Ah, then you will make a good lawyer's wife."

"I supposed I'd make a good wife of any kind. Are you coming to my
ball?"

"Well, you know I am too old to mak