At last they came in front of the dignified old house, wearing, like a wig, its high-pitched roof and white balustrade, with its terrace for silk stockings and its dressed front of quaint old flowers as a ruffle of old lace. The gate creaked in its wonted way; and they walked up the familiar gravel-walk. “The ladies were at home;” and the two went into the large living-room, and found Gracie and Mamie Livingstone together. Arthur shook hands with Mamie, and then, after introducing Mr. Derwent, sat down by his cousin, leaving Mamie to his friend, a proceeding which the latter noticed. Derwent talked nearly all the time to Mamie, whose little self he read at once, but his eyes wandered more than once to Gracie and her cousin. Now, Gracie Mamie thought a character far simpler than herself. They all sat so near that when either pair was silent the other’s conversation could be heard. Their call had lasted nearly an hour, when Miss Brevier came in, who was there, matronizing the young people, for a few days only. Then the conversation became more general, save that Derwent talked some half an hour, at the end, with Miss Holyoke. It was after ten before they rose to go. “So you are going to Lenox to-morrow,” said Gracie. “And after that?” “After that, I don’t know; perhaps I shall come here?” “I don’t think you could bear being at the Barrington Hotel,” said Gracie, with a laugh. Arthur bit his lip. “Well, I suppose a fellow can go somewhere,” said he. “I may have to go back to the shop. Where do you go, Derwent?” “I am going out among the Rockies of British Columbia, hunting,” said he. “I wish you’d come,” he added, turning to Arthur suddenly, as if the thought had then first struck him. “Thanks,” said Arthur, ill-naturedly. “Unfortunately, I’m nothing but a broker’s clerk.” But his _amour-propre_ was soothed by the evident increased consideration that Miss Livingstone had shown him; and even to the last moment she pressed him with questions, and hung admiringly upon his history of the trip. “Who did you say was with you on the box when you upset?” she said, as they lingered at the doorway. The moon was up by this time, bleaching all the colored roses of the terrace in its yellow light. “Miss Farnum,” said Arthur. “But I believe Mrs. Malgam takes her place to-morrow,” he added, carelessly. “Oh!” said Mamie. “I’m fearing you’ll be quite too grand to speak to me when I’m a bud.” And she gave him a look--one of her practised looks--out of her very pretty eyes, a look that Gracie never could have compassed. Arthur returned it, with the skill of a year’s experience; meantime, Derwent was taking leave of the others, and they soon were walking home together--that is, to the Great Barrington Hotel. “A charming girl,” said Derwent. “Who?” said Arthur, curtly. “Miss Livingstone,” said the other, after a pause. “Your young New York girls are such delicate flowers--and yet so hardy, too. And they can be trained to almost anything.”