Words failed her, but the thrill in her voice, the quick flush and dilated eyes took their place. There is no telling what Beth might have done as the magnitude of her personal wealth sank into her consciousness. A hundred dollars! That would be almost enough to paint the old house at home, Beth thought; they had been wishing to have it painted. Just then Riggs emerged from behind the swinging door and offered Beth the muffins with his unbending gravity. It prevented any outburst of gratitude to her uncle on Beth’s part, for Riggs’ solemn dignity froze Beth’s blood. Mr. Cortlandt was satisfied with the look in Beth’s eyes as she mutely thanked him. More and more he saw his little sister, Beth’s mother, whose life had been so short, in the sweet face of the child she had not lived to kiss a second time, and more and more he delighted in giving Beth pleasure, as if he were reaching backward over the years to make that lost Nannie happy. He nodded at Beth with entire understanding and affection. “Don’t forget that you are due at the hospital to-day,” he reminded her. “Santa Claus mustn’t crowd out your crippled Liebchen, you know.” “I am going to take Beth there at half-past ten,” said Aunt Alida. “Send these letters to my room, Riggs, and have these destroyed.” She indicated the two piles into which she had divided her morning mail as she spoke. “Beth, dear, tell Frieda that after she has made you ready she may make herself ready to go to the hospital. I will take her with us on this first visit to her little sister.” “She’ll be glad, Aunt Alida--I hope she will be glad after she gets there!” added Beth. “They are going to tell us whether Liebchen can be cured, aren’t they?” “Yes. They operated yesterday afternoon. I am sure I hope the poor child may walk again,” said Aunt Alida, rising from breakfast. “Natalie, Alys, Dirk, I want a good report from the schoolroom to-day. Beth is playing at education this winter, as she is playing at being a visitor to Wonderland, but it must be real work for you, my dears.” “Yes, mother,” said Alys dutifully. Alys was the one who was most inclined to slip as easily as possible through lessons. But there was a quality in this marvelous Aunt Alida’s gentleness that made her children obey her when she issued one of her rare commands. Beth ran up to her room, not waiting for the elevator and the others. She opened the door of her room; its delicate beauty seemed to come forward to meet her, as if she saw it for the first time. There was a bunch of violets and ferns on a small teakwood table; their sweetness filled the air, spring seemed to be flooding in at the windows through the delicate net, past the folds of the blue velour curtains, on the brilliant light of the cloudless sunshine of a New York early winter morning. “Oh, Frieda, what a lovely, lovely young room this is, all white and blue!” cried Beth. “Where did the violets come from?” “Miss Alys left them. She said you’d know why,” said Frieda.