ply
repaid for all the trouble her visitor had made her.

And Helen enjoyed it, too, finding Mattie a little insipid and tiresome,
it is true, but feeling happy in the consciousness that she was making
others happy. It was a long drive they took, and Aunt Betsy saw so much
that her brain grew giddy and she was glad when they started for the
depot, taking Madison Square on the way and passing Katy's house.

"I dare say it is all grand and smart," Aunt Betsy said, leaning out to
look at it, "but I feel best at hum where they are used to me."

And her face did bear a brighter look, when finally seated in the cars,
than it had before since she left Silverton.

"You'll be home in April, and maybe Katy'll come, too," she whispered as
she kissed Helen good-by and shook hands with Mattie Tubbs, thanking her
for her kindness in seein' to an old woman, and charging her again never
to let the folks in Silverton know that "Betsy Barlow had once been seen
at a playhouse."

Slowly the cars moved away and Helen was driven home, leaving Mattie
alone in her glory as she rolled down the Bowery, enjoying greatly the
_eclat_ of her position, but feeling a little chagrined at not meeting a
single acquaintance by whom to be envied and admired. Only Tom saw her
alight, giving vent to a whistle, and asking if she didn't feel big, as
he tried to hold out his pantaloons in imitation of her dress and walk
as she disappeared through the door where the dry goods were swinging.

Katy did not ask where Helen had been, for she was wholly absorbed in
Marian Hazelton's letter, telling how fast the baby improved, how pretty
it was growing, and how fond both she and Mrs. Hubbell were of it,
loving it almost as well as if it were their own.

"I know now it was best for it to go, but it was hard at first," Katy
said, putting the letter away, and sighing wearily as she missed the
clasp of the little arms and touch of the baby lips.

Several times Helen was tempted to tell her of Aunt Betsy's visit, but
decided finally not to do so as it might distress her to know that
strangers rendered the hospitalities it was her duty to give, and so
Katy never guessed the truth, nor knew what it was which for many days
made Wilford so nervous and uneasy, starting quickly at every sudden
ring, going often to the window, and looking out into the street as if
expecting some one who never came, while he grew strangely anxious for
news from Silverton, asking when Katy