ere; to come riding on a throne, as it were.
And still the time passed, and she did not come. Finally two of the
clever-heads penetrated the enigma: _mauvaise honte_, shyness--so long
out of the world, so old; perhaps not sure of her welcome. So they
determined to seek her out.

[Illustration: THE ROOM IN THE OLD GALLERY.]

"We will go to her, like children to a grandmother, etc. The others
have no delicacy of sentiment, etc. And she will thus learn who really
remember, really love her, etc."

Provided with congratulatory bouquets, they set forth. It is very hard
to find a dweller on the very sea-bottom of poverty. Perhaps that is
why the effort is so seldom made. One has to ask at grocers' shops,
groggeries, market-stalls, Chinese restaurants; interview corner
cobblers, ragpickers, gutter children. But nothing is impossible to
the determined. The two ladies overcame all obstacles, and needled
their way along, where under other circumstances they would not have
glanced, would have thought it improper to glance.

They were directed through an old, old house, out on an old, old
gallery, to a room at the very extreme end.

"Poor thing! Evidently she has not heard the good news yet. We will
be the first to communicate it," they whispered, standing before the
dilapidated, withered-looking door.

Before knocking, they listened, as it is the very wisdom of discretion
to do. There was life inside, a little kind of voice, like some one
trying to hum a song with a very cracked old throat.

The ladies opened the door. "Ah, my friend!"

"Ah, my friend!"

"Restored!"

"Restored!"

"At last!"

"At last!"

"Just the same!"

"Exactly the same!"

It was which one would get to her first with bouquet and kiss,
competition almost crowding friendship.

"The good news!"

"The good news!"

"We could not stay!"

"We had to come!"

"It has arrived at last!"

"At last it has arrived!"

The old lady was very much older, but still the same.

"You will again have a chance!"

"Restored to your friends!"

"The world!"

"Your luxuries!"

"Your comforts!"

"Comforts! Luxuries!" At last the old lady had an opportunity to slip
in a word. "And friends! You say right."

There was a pause--a pause which held not a small measure of
embarrassment. But the two visitors, although they were women of the
world, and so dreaded an embarrassment more than they did sin, had
prepared themselves even to stand this.

The old