So the baby was christened “Frederic Steele,” and Lottie was there and saw it. She had no fancy for christenings, where the children usually screamed so vigorously, she said, but she did want to see how John looked as a father and how Amasa behaved as sponsor. So she went to the church and mentally criticised Kitty’s dress and the baby’s dress, and thought her husband very awkward and John very handsome, and drove next day to Tiffany’s and selected a silver cup, which was marked, “For little Fred,” and sent it to the address of the Craigs, who wondered greatly whence it came, and wondered, too, what they should do with it, inasmuch as Amasa’s gift was also a silver cup, gold-lined, and looking as if it were the twin of the one which had come no one knew whence, and which Kitty put away as something to be looked at but never used. And now we pass over a period of more than eighteen months, and come to a time when, wearied out with gayety and dissipation, Lottie Steele was almost glad when the first days of Lent came and put an end to the parties and receptions which had so engrossed her time, and made her grow pale and thin, with dark rings around her eyes. But she would rest now, or at least lead a different kind of life, for though she wore her second-best dresses and kept all the fasts and holy days, and never missed a service, whether on Sunday or week day, she still had a good deal of leisure time for quiet, and kept earlier hours, and hoped to come out at Easter as bright and fresh as the new bonnet which she had in her mind for that occasion. Lent was really beneficial, both to her health and her complexion, she thought, and she kept it religiously, and affected to be greatly shocked when she heard that Kitty Craig had committed the enormity of going to the opera, where a wonderful bird of song was entrancing the people with its melody. Lottie went to elaborate lunches served in darkened rooms, and went to the Philharmonics, and to concerts, and lectures but avoided the opera as if the plague had been rioting there, and felt that the example of consistency she thus set before her husband was infinitely better than that of sinful, opera-going Kitty Craig.