shut the door behind her, Emma said:

"Dear grandma, you will be very much surprised to hear who it is that is
coming."

And when Mrs. Cavendish looked up surprised indeed, as well as somewhat
alarmed, Emma began and told her of the letter she had received from
Mrs. Fanning; of her widowhood and destitution, and of her recent
arrival in New York.

"All this is very distressing, my dear Emma, but you see in it only the
natural consequences of a low marriage," said the old aristocrat.

"But the marriage is broken by death, dear grandma, and the error is
atoned for by much suffering," said Emma, gently.

"Well, my dear, what does the poor woman want us to do?" inquired Mrs.
Cavendish.

"She asks nothing, grandma. She simply writes to me, her sister's
child--"

"Her _half_-sister's child!" haughtily interrupted the old lady.

"It is the same thing, grandma. Her half-sister's child, and her only
living relative--"

"Her only living relative?" again interrupted the old lady. "Where is
her own misguided daughter?"

"Supposed to be dead, dear grandma. Certainly dead to her," said Emma,
sadly.

"Well, go on, child; go on."

"She writes to me, I say, and tells me of her situation--widowed,
childless, homeless and utterly destitute in a strange city; but she
asks nothing--suggests nothing."

"Well, and what would you do--you, her only living relative?" inquired
the ancient dame in a tone approaching sarcasm.

"I would restore to her all that she has lost, if I could. I would give
her back husband, daughter, home and competence," said Emma.

"But you can't do it any more than you can give her back her lost
caste," interrupted the old lady.

Emma felt discouraged but did not yield her point.

"No, dear grandma," she answered, sorrowfully, "I can not give her back
her husband, her child, or her wealth; but I can give my mother's
suffering sister a home and a friend."

Madam Cavendish lowered her gold-rimmed spectacles from her cap frills
to her eyes, placed her lace-mittened hands on the arms of her chair and
looked straight and steadily into the face of her granddaughter.

It was extremely disheartening, and Emma dropped her eyes before that
severe gaze and bowed her head meekly.

But Emma, though she was the young girl, was in the right; and Madam
Cavendish, though she was an ancient and venerable dame, was in the
wrong.

Emma knew this quite well, and in the argument that ensued she lovingly,
respectf