she's just lovely."

"Oh," cried Hanny, "I should like to see her, truly. You know I told you
about seeing her in the carriage when she went up to Mr. Poe's."

"Well, can't you go? The. has a standing invitation to bring friends.
Why, Nora has gone! She sang up there one evening, and did wonderfully
well. Her teacher thinks in a year or two she can try concerts; only it
isn't best to strain her voice now. And you may see some famous people,
and some yet to be famous, myself among them."

"Oh, I don't care about the others," said Hanny, naively. "And if you
are quite sure--Dolly, ought I to go?"

"Why not?" answered Dolly. "It's fortunate that you brought your best
frock; though we could have sent for it. Why, yes, if you would like
to."

Hanny drew a long breath. Twice of late her mother had found excuses
when she had asked to go down to Beach Street. She, too, had a vague
feeling there was something in the air; but her simple nature was not
suspicious. And it wasn't like going to the Whitney's. She couldn't do
such a thing without asking permission.

Delia finished her call, kissed the babies and Hanny, and said they
would all be up at eight, sharp.

"I'll have Hanny in apple-pie order," answered Dolly, with her bright
smile.

Stephen was delightful in his family; and he had the same odd little
look in his eye as her father, suggestive of fun. He was teaching her to
play checkers; and, although Dolly helped sometimes, she found it hard
work to beat him. Dolly sat by embroidering.

The next morning they drove down-town and did some shopping, and called
on Annette, who made them stay to luncheon. Mrs. Beekman was quite
poorly now, and had grown very, very stout. She said, "she had lost all
her ambition. It was a great thing to be young, and have all your life
before you."

It was so delightful; and Dolly was sure they wouldn't have many more
such Indian summery days, so they went over to Washington Parade-ground,
where the style promenaded on Saturday afternoon. Hanny wore her best
dress and a pretty cloth cape trimmed with a little edge of fur. They
took Stevie, who was delighted of course, and who ran about, very proud
of his new jacket and trousers.

Many of the promenaders nodded to young Mrs. Stephen Underhill. Belles
and beaux went by; prettily dressed children; stylish little boys, who
carried canes, and had long tassels drooping over one side of their
caps. Hanny enjoyed it all very much.

Then af