ey called a cab, and ordering it to drive to Morley's,
Trafalgar Square, betook herself to rearranging her toilet. She
re-clasped a pair of heavy gold bracelets around her wrists--at any rate
there was enough of gold in them to make a dashing display--and settled
a splendid shawl pin to her own infinite content, then she shook out the
folds of her dress, and settled down to serious meditation.

Certainly she did not appear much older than when her good looks had
been a temptation to Matthew Stacy, which came very near depriving
Harriet, the cook, of her pompous husband. Excitement had brought back
the youthful color to her face, and a spirit of benevolent mischief
kindled all the old coquettish fire in her eyes. Indeed, take her
altogether, the air of refinement, which she had obtained as a lady's
maid, and a certain style that she had, might well have made Mrs.
Matthew Stacy look about her when Margaret came out in force, such as
marked the dashing lady who descended from that cab, just lifting her
dress enough to reveal glimpses of a high-heeled boot, and an ankle
that Matthew Stacy recognized in an instant, for nothing so trim and
dainty had ever helped make a footprint in his matrimonial path, you may
be sure. He was standing on the steps at Morley's, with a white vest on
and his heavy chain glittering over it like a golden rivulet.

"What! No! yes! On my soul I believe it _is_ Miss Maggie!" cried the
ex-alderman, stepping forward and reaching out his hand. "Miss Casey, I
am in ecstasies of--of--in short, I am glad to see you."

Maggie bent till her pannier took the high Grecian curve as she opened
her parasol, then she gave him the tip end of her gloved fingers, and
said, with the sweetest lisp possible:

"How do you do, Mr. Stacy? It is ages and ages since I have had the
honor of meeting you. How is Mrs. Stacy and the--and the--"

"Thank you a thousand times, Miss Casey; but--but--in short, Mrs. Stacy
is the only person about whom you need inquire. There was
another--forgive the outburst of a father's feelings--but a little grave
in Greenwood, that long, tells the mournful story."

Here Alderman Stacy measured off a half yard or so of space with his fat
hands, but found the effort too much for him, and drew forth his pocket
handkerchief.

"Forgive me, but may you never know the feelings of a father who--who--"

"How distressing!" said Margaret, waving her head to and fro, until her
eyes settled on a window