through which looked a soul like a child's;
she was one of the famous beauties of the day, famous alike for her
loveliness, her great fortune, and the pride of her ancient name.

"My dear," she repeated, taking both Hildegarde's hands in hers, "what
sky have you dropped from, and what are you doing here?"

"Dear Imperia!" said Hildegarde, calling her by the old familiar school
name that came naturally to her lips. "How delightful to see you! I am
selling cakes; will you have some? There were some that I made myself,
but they are all sold. Here are various others, doubtless inferior, but
still good."

"Of course I will have some!" cried Imperia. "Why, this is perfectly
delightful! Do you really come here? regularly, I mean, and have all the
cakes you want? I never heard of such fun. Give me three dozen of
everything, and we'll have a carouse. Here, girls!" she turned and
called to the others, who were looking curiously at the two; "come here,
and tell me who this is! Shade of Madame Haut-ton, hover over us, and
bless this reunion!"

"Hildegarde Grahame! Hilda! Queen Hildegarde!" cried several voices; and
Hildegarde was instantly surrounded by the crowd of butterflies, all
caressing and questioning, laughing and talking at once. One or two
looked puzzled, other one or two sad, as they saw their gay schoolmate
of former days standing behind the counter, quiet and self-possessed,
and apparently entirely at home. But visible distress was on one
countenance, and Hildegarde, charitable, refrained from looking at her
cousin, when Imperia exclaimed, "Why, here is Blanche Van Dene! She is
your cousin, isn't she? Blanche, here is Hilda, who used to be so good
to you at school, and help you with your spelling. Dear me, Hilda, _do_
you remember how Blanchey used to spell?"

Hildegarde shook hands with her cousin composedly, and only her dancing
eyes showed any consciousness of the situation. Blanche muttered some
greeting, and then recollected an engagement and hurried off. The lady
Imperia looked after her with good-natured contempt.

"Same little animal, my dear! I beg your pardon, Hilda, but really, you
know, we remember her in her pinafores, and she was a snob then. But now
tell us all about it, like a good girl! You are not in trouble, dear old
thing?"

At this moment the door opened and Miss Adams came hurrying in,
breathless and apologetic. There had been a block in the street--she was
on the wrong side and could not