home.

Joe brought her up to the house when he had finished his round of calls.
He handed her out quite as if she was a stylish young lady, though she
was not in long gowns. But Joe was curiously proud of her, as being one
of his first cases.

Everybody gave her a cordial welcome. Jim was at once her most devoted.
Mrs. Underhill soon concluded foreign ways had not spoiled her; and
grandmother said she was a pretty-behaved, intelligent girl. But, oh,
the things she had seen, and done! She could talk French and German; she
had taken painting-lessons from real artists, and had some pretty
studies for Hanny, in a box not yet unpacked. She had brought the
friendship ring, which was two tiny hands clasped over a sapphire with
diamond sparks around it. Hanny's eyes shone with delight; she was
getting quite a collection in the way of gifts.

Daisy seemed to bring a fascinating atmosphere. She was not forward,
indeed there was often a pretty air of deprecation; but she had seen a
good deal of society without being actually in it, and, since her aunt's
death, had been her mother's companion. Her different lessons had mostly
been given at home, except those in oil-painting; and there was no air
of schools about her. She was so ready to be entertaining, so fresh, and
yet with a charming simplicity.

"I am so glad for Hanny to have such a friend," her mother said to the
Doctor. "She hasn't seemed to take any one to her heart since we have
been up here; and it does make her seem a bit old-fashioned to be so
much with elderly people."

"Yes. They seem to suit exactly."

Jim took them over to the Deans' one evening. Oh, what a merry talk they
had about old times, for it did seem quite old to them. They recalled
the day in summer, when the "caravan" went down Broadway to the store
where Charles had been employed one vacation, and dear old First Street.
Biddy Brady, who had danced for them, had run away and married a young
Irishman. Old Mrs. McGiven still sold candies and cakes, and
slate-pencils, and, oh, Washington pie that was almost as great a
necessity to childhood then, as chewing-gum is now.

Mr. Jasper brought up the pictures when he escorted his wife. There were
two pretty bits of landscape on the shore of Lake Geneva, and the other
a Holland scene, with a stretch of canal and a queer house that looked
as if it might topple over some day, if the foundation was washed out.

"But they never do," explained Daisy. "It's all