Undine should have what she wanted, and she sometimes fancied that
Mrs. Heeny, who crossed those sacred thresholds so familiarly, might
some day gain admission for Undine.

"Well--I'll stay a little mite longer if you want; and supposing I was
to rub up your nails while we're talking? It'll be more sociable," the
masseuse suggested, lifting her bag to the table and covering its shiny
onyx surface with bottles and polishers.

Mrs. Spragg consentingly slipped the rings from her small mottled hands.
It was soothing to feel herself in Mrs. Heeny's grasp, and though she
knew the attention would cost her three dollars she was secure in the
sense that Abner wouldn't mind. It had been clear to Mrs. Spragg, ever
since their rather precipitate departure from Apex City, that Abner was
resolved not to mind--resolved at any cost to "see through" the
New York adventure. It seemed likely now that the cost would be
considerable. They had lived in New York for two years without any
social benefit to their daughter; and it was of course for that purpose
that they had come. If, at the time, there had been other and more
pressing reasons, they were such as Mrs. Spragg and her husband
never touched on, even in the gilded privacy of their bedroom at the
Stentorian; and so completely had silence closed in on the subject that
to Mrs. Spragg it had become non-existent: she really believed that,
as Abner put it, they had left Apex because Undine was too big for the
place.

She seemed as yet--poor child!--too small for New York: actually
imperceptible to its heedless multitudes; and her mother trembled for
the day when her invisibility should be borne in on her. Mrs. Spragg
did not mind the long delay for herself--she had stores of lymphatic
patience. But she had noticed lately that Undine was beginning to be
nervous, and there was nothing that Undine's parents dreaded so much as
her being nervous. Mrs. Spragg's maternal apprehensions unconsciously
escaped in her next words.

"I do hope she'll quiet down now," she murmured, feeling quieter herself
as her hand sank into Mrs. Heeny's roomy palm.

"Who's that? Undine?"

"Yes. She seemed so set on that Mr. Popple's coming round. From the way
he acted last night she thought he'd be sure to come round this morning.
She's so lonesome, poor child--I can't say as I blame her."

"Oh, he'll come round. Things don't happen as quick as that in New
York," said Mrs. Heeny, driving her nail-polisher chee