uttering stuff as silks and laces and India shawls; I should want
to do something high up and fine, like a magazine or a paper, that had
influence and scope. Some day I mean to own a share in a paper, where
you have a chance to touch up public opinion."

Herman Andersen seemed very happy and content. Mr. Jasper said he was
going to make a fine, reliable business man. He really felt he wouldn't
object to him for a son.

Grandmother Van Kortlandt was growing more feeble, and now and then had
a bad spell. Doctor Joe made light of it, and told her red lavender and
aromatic hartshorn were good for old ladies. She seemed to want her
daughter near her. The young man who had alarmed Mrs. Underhill did not
come so frequently, so she began to feel quite safe.

Oh, what a happy, happy summer it had been! The little girl was used to
her long frocks, and studied ways of doing her hair, and practised
Mendelssohn's "Songs without Words" because some one had said they were
the most beautiful things he had ever heard. She and Daisy and Mr.
Andersen talked German, and had no end of fun.

One afternoon Mr. Andersen came in.

"Let us go up to the Crystal Palace," he said. "It is the most glorious
afternoon imaginable. There is a sort of hazy red gold in the air, that
exhilarates one. You feel as if you could soar to heaven's gate."

"We haven't been up in almost a fortnight," said Hanny, laughing.

"The more need of our going now. I enjoy these superb days to the full."

Hanny went to get her hat. Grandmother generally took her nap early in
the afternoon. Mother was not in her own room, she saw, as she looked
in, so she ran on down. She was not in the kitchen either.

"Joe," she cried--there was no one in the office, and he sat with his
legs stretched out, and a book on the table beside him, looking very
comfortable,--"Joe, where is mother?"

"Up with grandmother, dear. Don't disturb her. What did you want?"

"Oh, nothing--only to say--we are going up to the fair."

"Very well; run along. You look as sweet as a pink."

A bright color flashed over her face, and settled in her dimple, making
it look like a rose as she smiled.

She was putting on her blossom-coloured lace mitts as she entered the
room. Some one else thought she looked as sweet as a pink when he rose,
and led the way.

She turned down the street.

"Oh, Daisy is not going," he said. "She had a headache all the morning.
You don't mind?"

"Oh, no. Poor dear Da