self,
when I was there this fall." But Hildegarde checked herself, feeling
that she was getting rather beyond Auntie's depth.

"And I had been wondering what I could make, this very afternoon, and
thinking of one thing and another; and when I saw these pretty little
moulds, it seemed the very thing I had been looking for. What do you
think, Auntie?"

"T'ink? I t'ink dem Noo York ladies better be t'ankful to git anything
you make for 'em, Miss Hildy; dat's my 'pinion! And I'll help ye make de
cake, and fuss round a little wid de creams, too, if you let me."

But Hildegarde declared she would not let her have any hand whatever in
the making of the almond cakes, and ran off, hearing her mother's voice
calling her from up-stairs.

"My dear suz!" said the black woman, gazing after her. "T'ink ob my
little baby missy growed into dat capable young lady, wat make anything
she touch her finger to. Ain't her match in Noo York, tell yer; no, nor
Virginny, nudder!"

CHAPTER III.

AUNT EMILY.

"AND you really think I would better stay several days, Mammina? I don't
like to leave you alone. Some one might come and carry you off! How
should I feel if I came back next week, and found you gone?" Hildegarde
looked down at her mother, as she sat in her low chair by the fire; she
spoke playfully, but with an undertone of wistfulness. Mrs. Grahame had
grown rather shadowy in the last year; she looked small and pale beside
Hildegarde's slender but robust figure; and the girl's eyes dwelt on her
with a certain anxiety. But nothing could be brighter or more cheerful
than Mrs. Grahame's smile, nor could a voice ring more merrily than hers
did as she responded to Hildegarde's tone, rather than her words.

"There _have_ been rumours of a griffin lurking in the neighbourhood. He
is said to have a particular fancy for old--there, there, Hilda! don't
kill me!--well, for middle-aged ladies, and his preference is for the
small and bony. I feel that I am in imminent peril; but still, under all
the circumstances, I prefer to abide my fate; and I think you would
decidedly better spend two or three days at least with your Aunt Emily.
She has never invited you before, and her note sounds pretty forlorn,
poor old lady! Besides, if you really want to do something at the
Exchange, you could hardly manage it in one day. So you shall pack the
small trunk, and take an evening gown, and make a little combination
trip, missionary work and money-m