efly because he could think of nothing
else to say.

Madame herself opened the door for them, with the old-fashioned
hospitality which has an indefinable charm of its own. "How do you do,
my dear," she said, taking the hand the younger woman offered her. In
the instant of feminine appraisement, she had noted the perfectly
tailored black gown, the immaculate shirtwaist and linen collar, and the
discerning taste that forbade plumes. The fresh, cool odour of violets
persisted all the way up-stairs, as Madame chattered along sociably,
eager to put the guest at her ease.

Below, they heard Alden giving orders about the trunk, and Mrs. Lee
smiled--a little, wan ghost of a smile that Madame misunderstood.

[Sidenote: Resting]

"You don't need to dress, if you're tired," she suggested, kindly,
"though we always do. Come down just as you are."

Mrs. Lee turned to the dainty little woman who stood before her, arrayed
in shining lavender silk. The real-lace fichu was fastened at the waist
with an amethyst pin and at her throat she wore a string of silver
beads. Her white hair was beautifully dressed, and somewhere, among the
smooth coils and fluffy softness, one caught the gleam of a filigree
silver comb.

"Not dress?" she said. "Indeed I shall, as soon as my trunk comes. That
is," she added, hastily, "if there's anyone to hook me up."

"There is," Madame assured her. "I'll leave you now to rest. We dine at
half-past seven."

The sweetness of the lavender-scented room brought balm to Edith Lee's
tired soul. "How lovely she is," she said to herself, as she noted the
many thoughtful provisions for her comfort, "and how good it is to be
here."

A silver-framed photograph stood on her dressing-table, and she picked
it up, wondering who it might be. The hair and gown were old-fashioned,
and the face seemed old-fashioned also, but, in a moment, she had
recognised her mother.

[Sidenote: The Newcomer in Green]

Tenderness for the dead and the living filled her heart. How dear it was
of Madame to have placed it there--this little young mother, just
budding into womanhood! It had been taken long before she had known of
Edith, or had more than dreamed of love.

The arrival of the trunk compelled her to brush away a few foolish
tears. She did not stop to unpack, but only took out the dinner gown
that lay on top.

Promptly at half-past seven, she went down into the living-room, where
Alden and his mother were waiting to rece