She is barely medium height, fair,
with light hair, which by persistent application she makes almost
golden. It is thin and short, and floats about her head in artistic
confusion. Her eyes are a rather pale blue-gray, and near-sighted, her
features small, her voice has still the untrained, childish sound of
extreme youth. She is effusive and full of enthusiasms, rather
unbalanced, Floyd decides in a day or two.

"Good morning!" exclaims the bright voice of Eugene. "Upon my word, you
make quite an imposing _paterfamilias_, and Cecil, I dare say, has
found the weak place and tyrannizes over you. Come to me, little lady,"
pinching her lovely pink cheek.

But Cecil almost hides behind her father, and is proof against the
blandishments of the handsome young man. He is not quite so tall as
Floyd, but grace, from the splendidly shaped head to the foot worthy of
a woman's second glance. A clear, rich complexion, very dark hair and
eyes, and a mustache that looks as if it was pencilled in jet. Laura
has these darker tints as well. Certainly Mrs. Grandon has no cause to
be dissatisfied with her two youngest on the score of good looks.

Floyd lifts Cecil in his arms and admits that she does not make friends
easily. Then with a change in his tone, "How finely the place has been
kept up! Shall I thank you or mother for it, Eugene? Aunt Marcia's old
farm has arrived at great state and dignity. I have seen few places
abroad that I like better, though much, of course, on a far grander
scale."

"Aunt Marcia 'builded better than she knew.' Grandon Park is the seat
of fashion and taste; isn't that right, Marcia? And Floyd, old fellow,
_you_ are to be envied. I wish _I_ had been eldest born."

Floyd smiles, yet something in the tone jars a trifle. Then the
breakfast-bell rings and they move through the hall just as Madame
Lepelletier sweeps down the stairs like a princess in cream cashmere
and lace. Her radiance is not impaired by daylight. Marcia seems to
shrivel up beside her, and Gertrude looks extremely faded, washed out.

They are all bright and gay. Madame Lepelletier is one of the women who
seldom tolerates dulness or that embarrassing awkwardness that
occasionally settles even in well-bred circles. She is charming and
vivacious, she has resolved that they shall all like her, and though
she is not a particularly generous person, she has discerned how she
may be of use to them and win herself gratitude and friendship. She is