Edna. My dear," taking Bessie's hand, and
kissing her cheek, "you are very welcome for your father's sake."

"Thank you," returned Bessie, with unusual shyness, for Mrs. Sefton's
stateliness rather awed her. Both her words and her manner were kind;
nevertheless, Bessie found it difficult to respond; even when Mrs.
Sefton had established her in the corner of the couch, and was
questioning her with polite interest about her journey, she found
herself answering in almost monosyllabic replies, as though she were
tongue-tied.

"I cannot tell what came over me," she wrote the next day to her mother;
"I never felt so bashful and stupid in my life; and yet Mrs. Sefton was
most kind and considerate, only her graciousness seemed to crush me. She
is very handsome, far handsomer than her daughter, slightly stout, but
such a grand looking figure; Miss Sefton and I look like pygmies beside
her; but there is one thing that strikes me about her--a sort of
hardness when she is not speaking. I never saw a mouth closed so
tightly; and then there is no rest in her face. I could not help
thinking about father's story as I looked at her; it is not the face of
a happy woman. I can imagine that disappointment in her husband has
hardened her. I admire her very much; she fascinates and yet repels me,
but I do not think I could love her very much. Miss Sefton does, but
then her mother dotes on her."

Bessie was devoutly wishing herself at home during that first quarter of
an hour, but after a few minutes Mrs. Sefton's questions ceased, and she
touched a silver-mounted gong beside her, and almost as though by magic
the door was thrown noiselessly back, and the butler entered with the
tea-tray, followed by a footman in smart livery. Bessie wondered what
her mother would have thought of the delicate Worcester china that was
placed on a low table beside Mrs. Sefton, while a second table was
quickly covered with bread and butter and dainty-looking cakes. Edna had
thrown off her hat, and had coaxed Bessie to do the same; then she
proceeded to wait on her guest. A little table was placed at Bessie's
elbow, and all manner of sweet cakes forced on her. The very tea had a
different flavor from her mother's tea; it was scented, fragrant, and
mellow with rich country cream. Bessie sipped her tea, and crumbled her
rich cake, and felt as though she were in a dream. Outside the
smooth-shaven lawn stretched before the windows, there was a tennis-net
up, and