e, and
signified to Mrs. Grahame that she could never regard her as a sane
woman again. Mrs. Grahame had borne this affliction as bravely as she
might, and possibly, in the quietly happy years that followed the move,
she and her daughter did not give much thought to Aunt Emily or her
wrath. She was well, and did not need them, and they were able to get on
very tolerably by themselves. Now, however, things had happened. Mrs.
Delansing was much out of health; her own daughters were settled in
distant homes, and could not leave their own families to be with her;
she felt her friends dropping away year by year, and loneliness coming
upon her. For the first time in years, Emily Delansing felt the need of
some new face, some new voice, to keep her from her own thoughts.
Accordingly she had written to Mrs. Grahame a note which meant to be
stately, and was really piteous, holding out the olive-branch, and
intimating that she should be glad to have a visit from Hildegarde,
unless her mother thought it necessary to keep the girl buried for her
whole life.

In replying, Mrs. Grahame did not think it necessary to reply to the
last remark, nor to remind Mrs. Delansing that Hildegarde had spent a
month in New York the winter before, with an aunt on the Bond side, who
was not in the Delansing set. She said simply that Hildegarde would be
very glad to spend a few days in Gramercy Park, and that she might be
expected on the day set. And, accordingly, here Hildegarde was. She had
fully agreed with her mother that it was her duty to come, if Aunt Emily
really needed her; but she confessed to private doubts as to the reality
of the need. "And you do want me, Mrs. Grahame, deny it if you dare!"
she said.

"Heigh ho!" said Hildegarde again, looking about her for something to
talk to, as was her way. "Well, so I packed my trunk, and I came away,
and here I am." She addressed a small china sailor, who was sitting on a
pink barrel that contained matches.

"And if you think I like it so far, my friend, why, you have less
intelligence than your looks would indicate. What dress would you put
on, if you were I? I think your pink-striped shirt would be extremely
becoming to me, but I don't want to be grasping. You advise the brown
velveteen? I approve of your taste!"

Hildegarde nodded to the sailor, feeling that she had made a friend; and
proceeded to array herself in the brown velveteen gown. It was a pretty
gown, made half-low, with full elb