ous widths. The hat was a marvel of impossible roses, just
calculated for the worst kind of a wreck if a thunder-shower should come
up at a Sunday-school picnic. Lizzie's mother was even thinking of getting
her a pink chiffon parasol to carry; but the family treasury was well-nigh
depleted, and it was doubtful whether that would be possible. After all
that, it did not seem pleasant to have Lizzie put in the shade by a
fine-lady cousin in silks and jewels.

But Grandmother Brady had waited long for her triumph. She desired above
all things to walk among her friends, and introduce her granddaughter,
Elizabeth Bailey, and inadvertently remark: "You must have seen me
granddaughter's name in the paper often, Mrs. Babcock. She was giving a
party in Rittenhouse Square the other day."

Elizabeth would likely be married soon, and perhaps go off somewhere away
from Philadelphia--New York or Europe, there was no telling what great
fortune might come to her. Now the time was ripe for triumph if ever, and
when things are ripe they must be picked. Mrs. Brady proceeded to pick.

She gathered together at great pains pen, paper, and ink. A pencil would
be inadequate when the note was going to Rittenhouse Square. She sat down
when Nan and Lizzie had left for their day's work, and constructed her
sentences with great care.

"_Dear Bessie_--" Elizabeth had never asked her not to call her that,
although she fairly detested the name. But still it had been her mother's
name, and was likely dear to her grandmother. It seemed disloyalty to her
mother to suggest that she be called "Elizabeth." So Grandmother Brady
serenely continued to call her "Bessie" to the end of her days. Elizabeth
decided that to care much about such little things, in a world where there
were so many great things, would be as bad as to give one's mind entirely
over to the pursuit of fashion.

The letter proceeded laboriously:

"Our Sunday school is going to have a picnic out to Willow
Grove. It's on Tuesday. We're going in the trolley. I'd be
pleased if you would go 'long with us. We will spend the day,
and take our dinner and supper along, and wouldn't get home till
late; so you could stay overnight here with us, and not go back
home till after breakfast. You needn't bring no lunch; fer we've
got a lot of things planned, and it ain't worth while. But if
you wanted to bring some candy, you might. I ain't got time to
make any, and w