ing eyes, staring unseeingly at the page. Once her mother, finding
her thus, inquired with some sharpness what book she was reading to set
her off like that. "It's a book by Maeterlinck," said Lydia, "that
Godfather gave me ever so long ago, and I've never had time to read it."

"Do you like it? What's it about?" asked her mother, suspiciously.

"I can't understand it," said Lydia, "when I'm reading it. But when I
look away and think, I can, a little bit. I love it. It makes me feel
like crying. It's all about our inner life."

"My dear Lydia, you put your hat right on and go over to have a little
visit with Marietta. What you need is a little fresh air and some
sensible talk. I've been too busy with my invitation list to visit with
you as I ought. Marietta'll be real glad to see you. Here's your hat.
Now, you run right along, and stop at Hallam's on the way and get
yourself an ice-cream soda. It's hot, and that'll do you good."

As Lydia was disappearing docilely out of the door, her mother stopped
before going back to her desk and the list of guests for the
garden-party, which had been torturing her with perplexity, to say, "Oh,
Lydia, don't forget to ask Marietta to order the perforated candles."

"Perforated--!" said Lydia blankly, pausing at the door.

"Yes; don't you remember, the last time Mrs. Hollister called here she
told us all about them."

"No, I don't remember," said Lydia, with no shade of apology in her
tone.

"Why, my dear! You're getting so absent-minded! Do you mean to say you
didn't take in anything of what she was talking about? It's a new kind,
that has holes running through it so the melted wax runs down the
inside! Why, we were talking about them the whole time she was here that
last call."

Lydia opened the door, observing vaguely, "Oh, yes; I do seem to
remember something. It was a very dull visit, anyhow."

Mrs. Emery returned to her list, pursing up her lips and wagging her
head. "You'll have to learn, dearie, that it's little details like that
that make the difference between success and failure."

"We have electric light and gas," said Lydia.

Mrs. Emery looked up in astonishment and a little vexation. She, too,
had nerves these days. "Why, Lydia, what's the matter with you? You know
nobody uses those for table decoration."

"_We_ could," said Lydia.

"Why, my dear child, I never knew before there was a contrary streak in
you, like your father. What in the world possesses yo