n ribbon; it will make a lovely picture-frame; so
unique!'

"She had--she had taken a piece of my old Mechlin, which Hobson had
just done up and had laid in the drawer till I should feel strong enough
to examine and approve its appearance,--she had taken this and cut it to
pieces, cut out the flowers, to sew them-- There are things that have to
be lived through, my dear. It was weeks before Hobson felt able to tell
me what had occurred. I was in danger of a relapse for several weeks,
though she did it as delicately as possible,--good Hobson. I did not
trust myself to speak to Violette in person; I sent for her mother, and
told her of the occurrence. She--she--laughed!"

There was silence for some minutes. Hildegarde wanted to show the
sympathy that she truly felt, for she liked lace, and the idea of its
stupid destruction filled her with indignation. She ventured to lay her
hand timidly on the old lady's arm, but Mrs. Delansing took no notice of
the caress; she sat bolt upright, gazing out of the window with stony
eyes. Presently she said:

"You may ring for Hobson, if you please. I feel somewhat shaken, and
will have my malted milk in my own room. Another evening, I may ask
your patience in a game of backgammon,--you have been taught to play
backgammon? Yes; but not to-night. You will find books in the library,
and the piano does not disturb me. Good-night, my niece."

She shook hands with Hildegarde, and departed on Hobson's arm, looking
old and feeble, though holding herself studiously erect. Hildegarde went
to her room, feeling half sad, half amused, and wholly homesick. She
greeted the china sailor with effusion, as if he were a friend of years.
"Oh, you dear fellow!" she said. "You are young, aren't you? and happy,
aren't you? Well, mind you stay so, do you hear?" She nodded vehemently
at him, and took up her book, to read till bedtime.

CHAPTER IV.

GREETINGS.

THERE was no family breakfast at the house in Gramercy Park. A smiling
chambermaid brought up a tray to Hildegarde's room, with all manner of
pleasant things under suggestive little covers. Hilda ate and was
thankful, and then, finding that her aunt would not be visible before
noon, she put on her hat and went for a walk. The streets were chilly,
in the November morning, but the air was fresh and good, and Hildegarde
breathed it in joyously.

This was just a walk, she said to herself. She had many visits to make,
of course, and more or le