dinner.

She took my hand in both of hers; she looked straight into my eyes, and
if I couldn't hear Esther's voice tremble, then instead I could hear
Mrs. Sewall's.

"My dear," she said, "I am very proud of you. You were very beautiful,
this afternoon. You will always do me credit."

I leaned and kissed her hand half playfully. "I shall try anyhow," I
said lightly.

Mrs. Sewall took out her handkerchief and touched it to her eyes, then
slipped one of her arms through mine, and rested her jeweled hand on my
wrist, patting it a little.

"What a dear child you are!" she murmured. "I have grown fond of you. I
want you to know--tonight, when your eyes are telling me the fervor that
is glowing in that arduous soul of yours, how completely you satisfy me.
It may be one more little triumph to add to your day's joy. I want you
to know that if ever it was in my power to place my wealth and my
position on you, dear child, it would be the greatest happiness of my
life. I have given myself the liberty of confiding much in you, of
taking you into the inner courts, my dear. You are as familiar with my
expenditures as with your own; you are acquainted with my notions upon
distribution, charitable requests, wise and foolish investments; you
appreciate my ideas in regard to handling great fortunes; you agree with
me that masters of considerable amounts of money are but temporary
keepers of the world's wealth, and must leave their trust for the next
steward in clean, healthy, and growing condition; you have been
apprenticed to all my dearest hopes and ambitions. Ah, yes, yes, very
creditably would you wear my crown. With what grace, intelligence, and
appreciation of values would you move among the other monitors of great
fortunes, admired by them, praised, and loved, I think. What a factor
for good you could become! Your expansive sympathies--what resources
they would assume. Ah, well, well, you see I like to paint air-castles.
I like to put you into them. This afternoon when I saw you mounted like
some inspired goddess on that superb creature of Mrs. Scot-Williams',
and caught the murmur that passed over the little company on the balcony
as you approached, I thought to myself, 'She's made for something
splendid.' And you are, my dear--you are. Something splendid. Who knows,
my air-castles may come true."

"O Mrs. Sewall," I said softly, "I'm not worthy of such kind words
as those."

"There, there," she interrupted. She had heard