"If I might, Miss Galbraith, I'd like to go to Grant's Tomb. I've always wanted to go there, but I never can get a spare hour,--or if I do, I'm too tired for the trip." "Certainly, you shall. Would you like that, Mrs. Greene?" "Oh, land, yes! I've never been there, either. Quite some few times I've thought to go, but something always interferes." So to Grant's Tomb they went. The other car followed, and all went in to look at the impressive mausoleum. "Makes you feel kind o' solemn," said Mrs. Greene, as they came out. "Think of lyin' there in that eternal rock, as you might say, and the whole nation comin' to weep over your bier." "They don't all weep," observed Celeste. "Well, in a manner o' speakin', they do," said Mrs. Greene, gently. "Not real tears, maybe; but, you know, to weep over a bier, is a figger of speech; and so far as its meanin' goes, Grant's got it. And, after all, it's the meanin' that counts." It was nearing sundown as they started down the Drive, and Mona proposed that they go to a tea room, and then take their guests to their several homes. "Oh, how pretty!" said Mrs. Greene, as they all went into the Marie Jeannette Tea Room. The younger girls chose chocolate, but Mrs. Greene said, "Give me a cup of tea. There's nothing like it, to my mind. And to think of having tea in this beautiful place, all decked with posies. I'll just throw this fur a little open, but keep it over my shoulders. It looks so luxuriant that way." Mona ordered dainty sandwiches and little fancy cakes--and after a pleasant half-hour they started homeward. They left Celeste at her home first, and then took Mrs. Greene to hers. "I live way down on East Eleventh Street," she said, apologetically; "and I oughtn't to let you go clear down there with me. But,--oh, well, I might as well own up,--I'd just love to roll up to our door in this car!" "And so you shall," said Mona, appreciating this bit of feminine vanity. "And, Mrs. Greene, if you'll accept them, I'd like to make you a present of those furs. I don't need them, for I have several other sets, and you're very welcome to them." "My land!" said Mrs. Greene, and then could say no more, for her voice choked, and two tears rolled down her cheeks. "And to think I thought you ladies were stuck up!" she said, in a voice of contrition. "Why, two angels straight from Heaven couldn't be more kind or whole-soulder than you two are. But, Miss Galbraith, I can't accept such a gift,--I--I ought not to." Mrs. Greene was caressing the fur as she spoke, and Mona patted her hand, saying laughingly: "I couldn't take it away from anybody who loves it as you do. Please keep it. I'm more glad to give it to you than you can possibly be to have it." So Mrs. Greene kept the furs,--and her beaming face proved the depth of thankfulness which she tried, all inadequately, to express. CHAPTER VI CONFIDENCES