smartly-apparelled occupants, delighted Mrs.
Greene's very soul.

"Where would you like to go, Celeste?" asked Mona; "or do you like the
Park and the River drive?"

"If I might, Miss Galbraith, I'd like to go to Grant's Tomb. I've
always wanted to go there, but I never can get a spare hour,--or if I
do, I'm too tired for the trip."

"Certainly, you shall. Would you like that, Mrs. Greene?"

"Oh, land, yes! I've never been there, either. Quite some few times
I've thought to go, but something always interferes."

So to Grant's Tomb they went. The other car followed, and all went in
to look at the impressive mausoleum.

"Makes you feel kind o' solemn," said Mrs. Greene, as they came out.
"Think of lyin' there in that eternal rock, as you might say, and the
whole nation comin' to weep over your bier."

"They don't all weep," observed Celeste.

"Well, in a manner o' speakin', they do," said Mrs. Greene, gently.
"Not real tears, maybe; but, you know, to weep over a bier, is a
figger of speech; and so far as its meanin' goes, Grant's got it. And,
after all, it's the meanin' that counts."

It was nearing sundown as they started down the Drive, and Mona
proposed that they go to a tea room, and then take their guests to
their several homes.

"Oh, how pretty!" said Mrs. Greene, as they all went into the Marie
Jeannette Tea Room.

The younger girls chose chocolate, but Mrs. Greene said, "Give me a
cup of tea. There's nothing like it, to my mind. And to think of
having tea in this beautiful place, all decked with posies. I'll just
throw this fur a little open, but keep it over my shoulders. It looks
so luxuriant that way."

Mona ordered dainty sandwiches and little fancy cakes--and after a
pleasant half-hour they started homeward. They left Celeste at her
home first, and then took Mrs. Greene to hers.

"I live way down on East Eleventh Street," she said, apologetically;
"and I oughtn't to let you go clear down there with me. But,--oh,
well, I might as well own up,--I'd just love to roll up to our door in
this car!"

"And so you shall," said Mona, appreciating this bit of feminine
vanity. "And, Mrs. Greene, if you'll accept them, I'd like to make you
a present of those furs. I don't need them, for I have several other
sets, and you're very welcome to them."

"My land!" said Mrs. Greene, and then could say no more, for her voice
choked, and two tears rolled down her cheeks.

"And to think I thought you ladies wer