id
to Maria when they entered the room, which did seem somewhat chilly.

Maria asked the girl to do so, and when she had gone and the fire was
blazing Evelyn said:

"I didn't like to ask her, sister. She doesn't realize that I am not
a baby, and she does not like it. So I never ask her to do anything
except when mamma is here. Irene is afraid of mamma."

Maria laughed and looked at the clock. "How long will it be before
father comes, do you think, dear?" she asked.

"Papa comes home lately at five o'clock. I guess he will be here very
soon now; but mamma won't be home before half-past seven. She has
gone with the Voorhees to the matinee. Do you know the Voorhees,
sister?"

"No, dear."

"I guess they came to Edgham after you went away. They bought that
big house on the hill near the church. They are very rich. There are
Mr. Voorhees and Mrs. Voorhees and their little boy. He doesn't wear
long stockings in the coldest weather; his legs are quite bare from a
little above his shoes to his knees. I should think he would be cold,
but mamma says it is very stylish. He is a pretty little boy, but I
don't like him; he looks too much like Mr. Voorhees, and I don't like
him. He always acts as if he were laughing at something inside, and
you don't know what it is. Mrs. Voorhees is very handsome, not quite
so handsome as mamma, but very handsome, and she wears beautiful
clothes and jewels. They often ask mamma to go to the theatre with
them, and they are here quite a good deal. They have dinner-parties
and receptions, and mamma goes. We had a dinner-party here last week."

"Doesn't father go to the theatre with them?" asked Maria.

"No, he never goes. I don't know whether they ask him or not. If they
do, he doesn't go. I guess he would rather stay at home. Then I don't
believe papa would want to leave me alone until the late train, for
often the cook and Irene go out in the evening."

Maria looked anxiously at her little sister, who was sitting as close
to her as she could get in the divan before the fire. "Does papa look
well?" she asked.

"Why, yes, I guess so. He looks just the way he always has. I haven't
heard him say he wasn't well, nor mamma, and he hasn't had the
doctor, and I haven't seen him take any medicine. I guess he's well."

Maria looked at the clock, a fine French affair, which had been one
of Ida's wedding gifts, standing swinging its pendulum on the shelf
between a Tiffany vase and a bronze. "Father