"Only that you seem to have started on a month's programme, my love,
that's all. Don't look so, angel! I will go to see all of them; I will
spend a month with each in turn; only don't look troubled!"

By and by everything was settled as well as might be. Mother and
daughter went to sleep with peaceful hearts, and the next day Hildegarde
departed for New York, determined to make as short a visit as she could
in propriety to Aunt Emily Delansing.

Of her reception by that lady she herself shall tell:

"BLESSEDEST MOTHER:

"As usual, you were quite right, and I am glad I
came. Hobson was at the station, and brought me up
here in a hansom, and Aunt Emily was in the
drawing-room to receive me. She is very kind, and
seems glad to have me here. I have not done much
yet, naturally, as I have not been here two hours
yet. I could not let the six o'clock mail go
without sending you a line, just to say that I am
safe and well. Very well indeed, dearest, and no
more homesick than is natural, and loving you more
than you can possibly imagine. But oh, the streets
are so noisy, and there are no birds, and--no, I
will not! I will be good. Good-bye, dearest and
best! Always your very ownest,

"HILDA."

Hilda sealed and addressed her letter, and then rang the bell. A grave
footman in plum-coloured livery appeared, received the letter as if it
were an official document of terrible import, and departed. Then, when
the door was closed and she was alone again, Hildegarde leaned back in
her chair and gave herself up to reverie. Her eyes wandered over the
room in which she was sitting,--a typical city room, large and lofty,
with everything proper in the way of furnishing. "Everything proper, and
nothing interesting!" said Hildegarde, aloud. The oak furniture was like
all other oak furniture; the draperies were irreproachable, but without
character; the pictures were costly, and that was all.

Rather wearily Hildegarde rose and began the somewhat elaborate toilet
which was necessary to please the taste of the aunt with whom she had
come to stay. Mrs. Delansing was her father's aunt. Since Mr. Grahame's
death, his widow and child had seen little of her. She considered their
conduct, in moving to the country, reprehensible in the extrem