"Mr. Grandon allows me the privilege of making a call of condolence," the professor says, with his cheery smile, that wrinkles his face in good-humored lines. "My dear Mrs. Grandon, did you really forget you had no wings when you attempted to fly? Accept my sympathies, my very warmest, for I was once laid up in the same way, without the excuse of the stairs. Ah, Miss Grandon," and he holds out his hand to her, "have you given up the pleasure at the park?" "I wouldn't let her give up the reception," interrupts Violet. "No one is to give it up for me," and she remembers suddenly that no one has offered. "I should be a great deal happier and better pleased to remain here," responds Gertrude, "but Laura would be vexed. After all, it is a good deal to her and madame. Mrs. Floyd Grandon will take her turn next year, when she arrives at legal age. She is yet a mere child." "It is so, _mignonne_, and you could not dance with a lame foot." "You are going?" Violet says. "Yes, I hurried back. Mrs. Delancy was so kind as to send a note. And I had a desire to see my friend's house on this occasion. But why were you not moved?" and he turns his questioning eyes on Violet. "The doctor forbade it," answers Violet. "And I want to get thoroughly well, so I obey." "That is good, that is good," replies the professor, in a tone of the utmost commendation. They have a most agreeable chat until Mr. Grandon comes in, when Denise sends up some tea and wafer biscuits that would tempt an anchorite. The carriage is at the door for Gertrude, and an urgent note for Floyd, who has been deep in business all the afternoon, making up Eugene's shortcomings. "You must go," Violet says, but it is half questioningly. "Yes. Gertrude, I shall be very glad to have you keep me in countenance. We will discourse cynically upon the follies of the day and young people in general." "No," Violet says, with pretty peremptoriness. "Gertrude is going to be young to-night. Oh, what will you wear?" "There is nothing but black silk," answers Gertrude, "and that never was especially becoming, as I can indulge in no accessories. But Laura's dress is perfection. The palest, loveliest pink you can imagine, and no end of lace. Luckily, Mr. Delancy has not his fortune to make." Floyd kisses his wife tenderly and whispers some hurried words of comfort. When they are gone the professor drops into his own luxurious chair and does not allow Mrs. Grandon time for despondency. He has an Old World charm; he has, too, the other charm of a young and fresh heart when he is not digging into antiquities. Some way the talk comes around to Gertrude. She is so delicate, so melancholy, she shrinks so away from all the happy confusion that most women love. "Is it her grief for her father?" he asks.