y light coat that he wore.

A very sweet-looking elderly lady came up presently and spoke to Delia,
who was in full flow of eager talk with the young musical composer.

"Isn't that your sister, or your niece,--the one who sang here some time
ago? I saw her come in with Mr. Whitney."

"Oh, no," returned Delia. "But she is a very dear friend,--Mr.
Underhill's sister."

"Mr. Stephen Underhill?"

"Yes, she is his sister; but it is Mr. Ben Underhill who is here."

"I know Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Underhill very well. She was a Beekman. And
Dr. Hoffman's wife belongs to the family."

Delia turned and introduced Mrs. Kirtland.

She had such an attractive face, framed in with rows of snowy puffs,
quite gone out of date, but becoming to her nevertheless.

"I feel that I almost know you," she said sweetly, "though I half
mistook you for Miss Whitney; but she is dark, and you are fair, so I
ought not to have made the blunder. I know your brother Stephen and his
wife."

"Oh!" Hanny gave it a glad little sound, and smiled, as she put out her
small hand.

Mrs. Kirtland took the unoccupied seat.

"I suppose you have hardly begun life, you look so young. But no doubt
you are a genius of some sort. Mrs. Osgood is so extraordinarily good to
young geniuses."

"No, I haven't any genius," and Hanny flushed, as she gave a beguiling
smile that lighted up her face. "And though there are a good many of
us, we have not even a family genius."

"That depends upon whether you restrict the word to painting a picture
or writing a poem or a story. Mr. Stephen Underhill is very highly
spoken of as one of the promising young business-men. And is it your
brother who was in the office of old Dr. Fitch, and in the hospital?"

"Yes, ma'am," returned Hanny, with a glow of pleasure. Young people were
still expected to say "Yes, sir," and "Yes, ma'am," to their elders, out
of respect.

"That does very well for one family, though the Whitneys seem to have a
good share. Miss Delia is quite a success, I hear. And we always find
Mr. Whitney very entertaining. Have you known them long?"

"Oh, for years, seven almost. And we used to be neighbours."

"A friendship is said to be certain when you have held it seven years.
Have you met Mrs. Osgood before?"

"No, ma'am; but I saw her quite a long while ago at Fordham."

"At Fordham! Then you must have known the poet Edgar Allan Poe."

"A little," returned Hanny, timidly.

"There's such a romance t