ur
Delancy took me from, even if I had no great fortune. I can vie with
the rest of you."

Gertrude comes up to the cottage in the morning for a little quiet and
rest. She is the only one who has paid Violet the compliment of a call.
"And I don't at all care for the fuss and crowd," she says. "I shall be
so glad when it is over and one isn't routed from room to room. Oh, how
lovely and cosey you are here!"

"Mr. Grandon," Violet begins, with entreaty in tone and eyes, "couldn't
we have the professor's chair up to-day, just for Gertrude; it is so
deliciously restful. It is shocking for me to indulge in comfort and
see other people sitting in uneasy chairs."

Floyd brings it up. Gertrude is so tall that it seems made for her. The
soft, thick silk of the cushions, with a curious Eastern fragrance, the
springs to raise and to lower, to sleep and to lounge, are perfection.
Gertrude sinks into it with her graceful languor, and for once looks
neither old nor faded, but delicate and high-bred. Her complexion has
certainly improved,--it is less sallow and has lost the sodden look;
and her eyes are pensive when she smiles.

She proves very entertaining. Perhaps a little cynicism is mixed with
her descriptions of the guests and their raiment, but it adds a
piquancy in which Floyd has been utterly deficient. Silks and satins,
and point and Venetian seem real laces when a woman talks about them.
And the prospect for to-night is like a bit of enchantment.

"Oh, I should like to see it!" Violet cries, eagerly. "I wonder if it
will ever look so lovely again. And the orchestra! I wish I could be
down in the pretty summer-house looking and listening. Will they dance
any out of doors, think?"

"We used to waltz on the long balconies. I dare say they will again.
Laura had a delightful ball just before papa was taken ill, when she
and Arthur were first engaged. Why, it is just about a year ago, but it
seems so long since then," and Gertrude sighs. "Floyd ought to give you
a ball when you begin to go into society. Marcia and I had balls when
we were eighteen."

"I shall not be eighteen until next June," says Violet.

"Oh, how young you are! Why, I must seem--And think how much older
Floyd is!"

"You seem pleasant and lovely to me. What does a few years signify?"
protests Violet.

Gertrude watches her curiously for some seconds. "I hope you will
always be very happy, and that Floyd will be fond of you."

"Of course he will," re