"I have nothing to wear but my tailor-made and a white waist, Miss
Toland."

"And quite good enough! No one will notice us."

Perhaps truly no one noticed the eagerly talking, middle-aged woman and
her pretty and serious little companion, as they sat in a quiet corner
of the big grill-room, eating their dinner, but Julia noticed
everything, and even while she answered Miss Toland politely, her eyes
were moving constantly to and fro. She watched the cellarer, in his
leather apron, the well-dressed, chattering men and women who came and
went; she drank in the warm, perfumed air as if it were the elixir of
life. The music enchanted her, the big room with its lofty ceiling, its
clustered lights and flowers, swam in a glorious blur before her.

Miss Toland would bow now and then, and tell Julia about the people to
whom she bowed. Once they saw Doctor Studdiford laughing and talking at
a distant table with a group of young men, and once it was Barbara,
lovely in a blue evening gown, who came across the room to speak to her
aunt.

"And hello, Julia!" said Barbara pleasantly, on this occasion, resting
her armful of blue brocade and eiderdown upon a chair back. "It's
awfully nice to see you two enjoying yourselves!"

"What are you doing, dear?" her aunt asked.

"Mrs. Maitland's party--and we're going to the Orpheum. I don't care
much for vaudeville, though" And idly eying Julia, she added, "Do you,
Julia?"

Julia's heart leaped, her mouth felt dry.

"I like plays," she stammered, trying to smile, and clearing her throat.

"Well, so do I." Barbara shrugged, gathered up her coat again, and
drifted away. Julia heard nothing else that night but the kindly,
insolent little voice that seemed to make a friend and equal of her, and
when she was alone in bed in the dark, she went over and over the little
scene again, and thrilled again at Barbara's graciousness.

Perhaps six times a year Miss Toland went to Sausalito for a few days,
and then, during her first year as a settlement worker, Julia went to
her grandmother's house. Evelyn was now working with Ryan, the Tolands'
fashionable dressmaker, and doing extremely well. Marguerite was engaged
to be married, and as foolishly happy as if her eyes had been fixed upon
ideal unions since the days of her childhood. Nobody paid very much
attention to Julia except Marguerite's promised husband, who disgusted
her by hoarsely assuring her that she was a little peach, and attempting