But weeks went by, and nothing at all happened. One day, while she was in the back parlour, she heard Mrs. Russell’s voice in the front room; but the very tone of it reassured her. She wanted to buy a hat, and she wanted Angelica to let her have it cheap; so she was extraordinarily agreeable. She had, moreover, some sort of idea that it would help Angelica in the eyes of her partners to be seen in friendly converse with a lady like herself. "I wish you’d come and see me!" she said. "I’m so lonely! They’ve all gone--Vincent, you know, and now poor Courtland’s been drafted. Dear me! It does seem as if they ought to be able to make up a big enough army out of those who wanted to fight, without dragging in the unwilling ones. Poor Courtland will make a very bad soldier; he hates it so. He’s too independent. Vincent was really marvelous. If you could have seen him in his uniform! And he told me to be sure, if I saw you, to tell you not to forget him. He even went to Polly and begged her to be reconciled to him before he left, perhaps never to return. I went to see her, too, to see if I could influence her; but what do you think? She’s adopted a baby, and she’s wrapped up in it. She says it fills her life, and she doesn’t want any one else. She’s very hard on Vincent. Those frightfully maternal women always are dreadfully hard on men, don’t you think? I’m not surprised at her adopting a child; she was so absorbed in the one she lost. I couldn’t do a thing with her. She said she had done with Vincent. Poor boy! She’s narrow--provincial. Awfully selfish, don’t you think?" "I don’t know," said Angelica. "I suppose she can’t help how she feels." "Well, I thought it was horrible to see her there, so happy with that baby, and so callous about her husband. Not even her own baby--some little waif she’s picked up. It’s a wretched, puny little thing, too; she has to give it the most unceasing care. I shouldn’t be surprised to hear any day that she’s lost it. Oh, my dear! What’s that heavenly mass of purple?" "That’s a negligée I’m making," said Devery, thus addressed. "Could I possibly wear purple?" inquired Mrs. Russell earnestly. "Do please let me see it! Oh, how _marvelous_! Could I _possibly_ slip it on? "Am I _hideous_?" she asked Angelica anxiously, when she had got the purple garment on and stood before the long mirror. "It’s not quite your style," said Angelica, with great seriousness. "I think--but Miss Devery will give you suggestions." "A dark green," said Devery, "with dull, blackish blue overtones--not a floating thing like this, Mrs. Russell. You’re slender enough to stand a straight, narrow garment. Not exactly a negligée; I never advise them, there’s so little use in them; but what I call a boudoir gown." "How much would it cost?" asked Mrs. Russell. "One hundred dollars," said Devery.