ense. Mr. Dillwyn wants us to go, I know."

"That is not a reason for going."

"I think it _is_. He is just as good as he can be, and I like him more
than anybody else I ever saw in my life. I'd like to see the thing he'd
ask me, that I wouldn't do."

"Madge, Madge!"

"Hush, Lois; that's nonsense."

"Madge you trouble me very much."

"And that's nonsense too."

Madge was beginning to get over the first sense of novelty and
strangeness in all about her; and, as she overcame that, a feeling of
delight replaced it, and grew and grew. Madge was revelling in
enjoyment. She went out with Mrs. Wishart, for drives in the Park and
for shopping expeditions in the city, and once or twice to make visits.
She went out with Mr. Dillwyn, too, as we have seen, who took her to
drive, and conducted her to galleries of pictures and museums of
curiosities; and finally, and with Mrs. Wishart, to a Philharmonic
rehearsal. Madge came home in a great state of exultation; though Lois
was almost indignant to find that the place and the people had rivalled
the performance in producing it. Lois herself was almost well enough to
go, though delicate enough still to allow her the choice of staying at
home. She was looking like herself again; yet a little paler in colour
and more deliberate in action than her old wont; both the tokens of a
want of strength which continued to be very manifest. One day Madge
came home from going with Mrs. Wishart to Dulles & Grant's. I may
remark that the evening at Mrs. Burrage's had not yet come off, owing
to a great storm the night of the music party; but another was looming
up in the distance.

"Lois," Madge delivered herself as she was taking off her wrappings,
"it is a great thing to be rich!"

"One needs to be sick to know how true that is," responded Lois. "If
you could guess what I would have given last summer and fall for a few
crumbs of the comfort with which this house is stacked full--like hay
in a barn!"

"But I am not thinking of comfort."

"I am. How I wanted everything for the sick people at Esterbrooke.
Think of not being able to change their bed linen properly, nor
anything like properly!"

"Of course," said Madge, "poor people do not have plenty of things. But
I was not thinking of _comfort_, when I spoke."

"Comfort is the best thing."

"Don't you like pretty things?"

"Too well, I am afraid."

"You cannot like them too well. Pretty things were meant to be liked.
What else wer