induced her to spend a day with them.

At the end of the winter Ila was married; very grandly, in Grace Church.
All her friends but Magdalena were bridesmaids. The omission was a
serious one, and all felt that it robbed the function of a last fine
finish: each of the girls had counted upon having the last of the Yorbas
for chief bridesmaid. Magdalena went and sat in a corner of the church
and saw the first of her friends break the circle of their girlhood. Her
present had been very meagre: it had come out of her monthly allowance.
Mrs. Polk was much too indolent to consider whether her niece was
allowed an income suitable for her position or not, and Magdalena was
much too proud to ask favours. She slipped out of the church just before
the end of the ceremony, feeling like a poor relation.

She rarely saw her father. Occasionally she met him in the hall; he
drifted past her like a ghost. Mr. Polk died in February. On the first
of June Don Roberto had not been out of the house for three months, nor
had he exchanged a word with his wife or daughter.

"He'll blink like an owl when he does go out," said Mrs. Yorba. "I
wonder if he remembers that it is time to go to the country?"

"He never forgets anything. I'll pack his things if you like."

But the day passed and the next, and Don Roberto gave no sign of
remembering that it was time to move. Then Mrs. Yorba drew several long
breaths, went downstairs, and knocked at his door. There was no
response, but she turned the knob and went in. Don Roberto's face was
between the large pages of a ledger. He looked round with a scowl.

"Everything is ready to move down. Are you not coming?"

"No; and you no going either. Letting the place."

If the President of the United States had let the White House, Mrs.
Yorba could not have been more astounded.

"Let Fair Oaks! Fair Oaks?"

"Yes."

"And where are we to go this summer?"

"We stay here."

"Robert! You cannot mean that. No one stays here in summer. The city is
impossible--those trade-winds--those fogs--"

"Need not go out. Can stay in the house." And Don Roberto returned to
his ledger.

Mrs. Yorba went straight to Magdalena's room, and for the first time in
her daughter's experience of her, wept.

"To think of spending a summer in San Francisco! How I have looked
forward to the summer! Things are always bright and cheerful in Menlo
even with the house shut up, for one can sit on the verandah. But here!
And not a