Helen appreciated the difference at once between her furs and Katy’s and felt a pang of mortification as she saw how old and poor and _dowdy_ hers were beside the others. But they were her own—the best she could afford. She would not begin by borrowing, and so she declined the offer, and greatly to Mrs. Cameron’s horror went down to Mrs. Banker clad in the despised furs, which Mrs. Cameron would on no account have had beside her on Broadway in an open carriage. Mrs. Banker noticed them, too, but the eager, happy face, which grew each moment brighter as they drove down the street, more than made amends; and in watching that and pointing out the places which they passed, Mrs. Banker forgot the furs and the coarse straw hat whose strings of black had undeniably been dyed. Never in her life had Helen enjoyed a ride as she did that pleasant winter day, when her kind friend took her wherever she wished to go, showing her Broadway in its glory from Union Square to Wall Street, where they encountered Mark in the bustling crowd. He saw them, and beckoned to them, while Helen’s face grew red, as, lifting his hat to her, he came up to the carriage, and at his mother’s suggestion took a seat just opposite, asking where they had been, and jocosely laughing at his mother’s taste in selecting such localities as the Five Points, the Tombs and Barnum’s Museum, when there were so many finer places to be seen. Helen felt the hot blood pricking the roots of her hair for the Five Points, the Tombs and Barnum’s Museum had been her choice as the points of which she had heard the most. So when Mark continued: “You shall ride with me, Miss Lennox, and I will show you something worth your seeing,” she frankly answered: “Your mother is not in fault, Mr. Ray. She asked me where I wished to go, and I mentioned these places; so please attribute it wholly to my country breeding, and not to your mother’s lack of taste.” There was something in the frank speech which won Mrs. Banker’s heart, while she felt an increased respect for the young girl, who, she saw, was keenly sensitive, even with all her strength of character. “You were right to commence as you have,” she said, “for now you have a still greater treat in store, and Mark shall drive you to the Park some day. I know you will like that.” Helen could like anything with that friendly voice to reassure her, and leaning back she was thinking how pleasant it was to be in New York, how different from what she had expected, when a bow from Mark made her look up in time to see that they were meeting a carriage, in which sat Wilford, with two gayly dressed ladies, both of whom gave her a supercilious stare as they passed by, while the younger of the two half turned her head, as if for a more prolonged gaze.