acities of color and shape, rather than overdressed, and she thrust
forward, in expression of her amazement, a very small hand, wonderfully
well gloved; her manner was full of the anxiety of a woman who had
fought hard for a high place in society, and yet suggested a latent
hatred of people who, in yielding to her, had made success bitter and
humiliating.

Her companion was a young and very handsome girl, exquisitely dressed,
and just so far within the fashion as to show her already a mistress of
style. But it was not the vivid New York stylishness. A peculiar
restraint of line, an effect of lady-like concession to the ruling mode,
a temperance of ornament, marked the whole array, and stamped it with
the unmistakable character of Boston. Her clear tints of lip and cheek
and eye were incomparable; her blond hair gave weight to the poise of
her delicate head by its rich and decent masses. She had a look of
independent innocence, an angelic expression of extremely nice young
fellow blending with a subtle maidenly charm. She indicated her surprise
at seeing Mr. Arbuton by pressing the point of her sun-umbrella somewhat
nervously upon the floor, and blushing a very little. Then she gave him
her hand with friendly frankness, and smiled dazzlingly upon him, while
the elder hailed him with effusive assertion of familiar acquaintance,
heaping him with greetings and flatteries and cries of pleasure.

"O dear!" sighed Kitty, "these are old friends of his; and will I have
to know them? Perhaps it's best to begin at once, though," she thought.

But he made no movement toward her where she sat. The ladies began to
walk up and down, and he with them. As they passed her, he did not seem
to see her.

The ladies said they were waiting for their carriage, which they had
left at a certain point when they went to look at the fall, and had
ordered to take them up at the inn. They talked about people and things
that Kitty had never heard of.

"Have you seen the Trailings since you left Newport?" asked the elder
woman.

"No," said Mr. Arbuton.

"Perhaps you'll be surprised then--or perhaps you won't--to hear that we
parted with them on the top of Mount Washington, Thursday. And the
Mayflowers are at the Glen House. The mountains are horribly full. But
what are you to do! Now the Continent"--she spoke as if the English
Channel divided it from us--"is so common, you can't run over there any
more."

Whenever they walked towards Kitty, t