very
handsome, and so jolly and joyous that the children are convulsed with
laughter. They lure him down in the garden afterward for a game of
romps.

"How Eugene Grandon has changed!" says Mrs. Latimer. "He was extremely
moody when Madame Lepelletier first fenced him out a little," and she
smiles. "How odd that so many young men should take their first fancy
to a woman older than themselves!"

"Do they?" says Violet, simply. Somehow she cannot get back to the
world wherein she dwelt yesterday.

"Yes, I have seen numberless instances. Sometimes it makes a good
friendship for after life, but I fancy it will not in this case.
Indeed, I do not believe a man could have a friendship with her, for
there is no middle ground. It is admiration and love. She is the most
fascinating woman I have ever met, and always makes me think of the
queens of the old French _salons_."

Violet answers briefly to the talk. "She is thinking of her husband,"
ruminates Mrs. Latimer. "She is very much in love with him, which is a
good thing, seeing that the young man is disenchanted, and ready to lay
his homage at the feet of another."

It is quite dusk when they start for home. Cecil nestles close to
Violet, who kisses her tenderly. The child's love is above suspicion or
doubt, and very grateful to her aching heart.

"You see," exclaims Eugene, as he hands her out, "that I have begun a
new _role_. I love you so sincerely that no idle gossip shall touch you
through me."

The tears come into her eyes for the first time. She longs to cling to
him, to weep as one might on the shoulder of a brother.

The drawing-room is lighted up, and there are two figures within.

"Oh, you are come at last!" says the rather tart voice of Mrs. Grandon,
who has telegraphed to Briggs to meet her at the early evening train,
finding that she has made some earlier connections on her journey. "I
was amazed to find every one away. Ah, my dear Eugene! Cecil, how do
you do?" And she stoops to kiss the child.

"Mrs. Latimer gave a nursery tea-party," explains Eugene, "or garden
party, was it not?"

"Here is my old friend, Mrs. Wilbur," she says. "Tomorrow Mrs. Dayre
and her daughter will be here. Is not Floyd home yet?"

Violet answers the last as she is introduced to Mrs. Wilbur, a pleasant
old lady with a rosy face surrounded by silvery curls.

"What a lovely child!" exclaims Mrs. Wilbur. "Why, she looks something
as Gertrude used, and I thought Gertrude a p