Still he could not be satisfied without probing her a little deeper, and so he said, “And that _other chap_? Does he live in Silverton?” Aunt Betsy’s look was a sufficient answer; for the old lady knew he was quizzing her, just as she felt that in some way she had removed a stumbling-block from his path. She had,—a very large stumbling-block, and in the first flush of his joy and gratitude he could do most anything. So when she spoke of going up to Katy’s he set himself industriously at work to prevent it for that day at least. “They were to have a large dinner party,” he said, “and both Mrs. Cameron and Miss Lennox would be wholly occupied. Would it not be better to wait until to-morrow? Did she contemplate a long stay in New York?” “No, she might go back to-morrow,—certainly the day after,” Aunt Betsy replied, her voice trembling at this fresh impediment thrown in the way of her seeing Katy. The quaver in her voice touched Mark’s sympathy. “She was old and simple-hearted. She was Helen’s aunt,” and this, more than aught else, helped him to a decision. “She must be homesick in the Bowery; he would take her to his mother’s and keep her until the morrow, and perhaps until she left for home; telling Helen, of course, and then suffering her to act accordingly.” This he proposed to his client; assuring her of his mother’s entire willingness to receive her, and urging so many reasons why she should go there, instead of “up to Katy’s,” where they were in such confusion, that Aunt Betsy was at last persuaded, and was soon riding up town in a Twenty-third Street stage, with Mark Ray her _vis-à-vis_, and Mattie at her right. Why Mattie was there Mark could not conjecture; and perhaps she did not know herself, unless it were that, disappointed in her call on Mrs. Cameron, she vaguely hoped for some redress by calling on Mrs. Banker. How then was she chagrined, when, as the stage left them at a handsome brown-stone front, near Fifth Avenue Hotel, Mark said to her, as if she were not of course expected to go in, “Please tell your mother that Miss Barlow is stopping with Mrs. Banker to-day. Has she baggage at your house? If so, we will send round for it at once. Your number, please?” His manner was so off hand and yet; so polite that Mattie could neither resist him, nor be angry, though there was a pang of disappointment at her heart as she gave the required number, and then shook Aunt Betsy’s hand, whispering in a choked voice, “You’ll come to us again before you go home?” With a good-bye to Mark, whose bow atoned for a great deal, Mattie walked slowly away, leaving Mark greatly relieved. Aunt Betsy was as much as he cared to have on his hands at once, and as he led her up the steps, he began to wonder more and more what his mother would say to his bringing that stranger into her house, unbidden and unsought.