drawing her to him he kisses her gently. "And
now I have about fifteen minutes to spare; try on some of this white
gear and let me see how you look."

She puts on the white and purple. It has a demi-train, and seems
fashioned exactly for her figure. He is awaiting her in her father's
room and looks her over with a critical eye. She is very pretty. She
can stand comparison now with madame or Laura or any of them. She knows
he is quite satisfied with her.

"Now," he continues, "Denise must pack them up again and I will send
them down home. After a week or so there will be visitors. Some day you
will find yourself Mrs. Grandon. I do not believe you at all realize it
yet."

She colors vividly. In the great house she is seldom honored by any
name. Even the servants are not quite determined what respect shall be
paid her.

Grandon kisses them both and is off. What a pretty, dainty pride the
girl has! Yet yesterday he sent the check without a thought of demur,
though Madame Vauban has made the trousseau as costly as circumstances
and her own reputation will permit. If she is never the heiress he
hopes she will be, he must be more than thankful then that she is wife
instead of ward.

Violet spends nearly all the morning arraying herself, to Cecil's
intense delight. Denise looks on with glistening eyes. She is as
anxious as Grandon that her young mistress shall hold up her head with
the best of them.

"But you have a prince for a husband, ma'm'selle," she says.

The prince meanwhile finds matters not so pleasant at the factory. His
bright mood is confronted with an evident cloud looming up much larger
than a man's hand. The main hall is filled with workmen standing about
in groups, with lowering brows and lips set in unflinching resolution,
as if their wills were strongly centred upon some object to be fought
for if not gained. Grandon glances at them in surprise, then walks
firmly through them with no interruption, pauses at the entrance and
faces them, assured that he is the one they desire to see.

One of the men, sturdy and dark-browed, steps forward, clears his
throat, and with a half-surly inclination of the head begins, "Mr.
Grandon," and then something intangible awes him a trifle. They may
grumble among themselves, and lately they have found it easy to
complain to Mr. Wilmarth, but the unconscious air of authority, the
superior breeding, and fine, questioning eyes disconcert the man, who
pulls himself togethe