She wakened early the following morning. Reviewing the events of the evening before, and having now dispassionate regard to the object of her visit, she registered a vow that no provocation upon earth should induce her another time to touch upon any vexed question. The opinions of these Tallmadges were not apparently to be altered any more than her own were. If she were going to wring any concession out of them with reference to Ethan, she must walk warily, she must appeal more to their sense of justice and family feeling. She was in their power. It was theirs to dictate terms. A new situation for Sarah C. Gano, but she would make the best of it. When she arrived at Ashburton Place before ten o'clock, Miss Hannah was just leaving the house. "_Oh!_" she said, as nervous people will, as though you had pinched them. "Good-morning!" Mrs. Gano bowed urbanely. "Good-morning! We understood you couldn't go out before the afternoon." "Yes, I can never count on being fit for much in the morning; but to-day I am abroad early. Shall I find the child?" She made a motion towards the house. "Ethan has just gone to school. Pa took him to-day." "Oh! And you are going to walk?" "No--y-yes--a little way." Miss Tallmadge's embarrassment seemed to rouse in Mrs. Gano's breast a sentiment to which it was commonly a stranger. She was curious. Ought she not to know something about this woman who stood in the relation of mother to Ethan? What was her life like? What were her interests? "I have always heard," the visitor said, as they walked along Somerset, and through Beacon to Tremont Street--"always heard what admirable house-keepers the New England women are. Do you do your own marketing?" "Yes; but always earlier." "This is a good time for shopping, before the crowded mid-day. I must look for a shawl of some kind." "I would be glad to show you the best place for such things, but to-day I--I have a most important engagement." She paused near a stationer's. On the right a staircase led from the street to the floor above. Several ladies bustled past, nodding good-morning to Miss Tallmadge, and disappearing up these stairs. Mrs. Gano's keen eyes explored the precincts. A small placard in the entry stated in white letters on lacquered tin: "Ladies' Domestic Philanthropic Society (Colored Registry Office)." "H'm!" she said, not seeming to see the nervous hand seeking farewell. "Colored! What color?" "I suppose you would say black." Miss Tallmadge had drawn herself up. "I should probably say negro. But I've heard they like to call themselves colored. Seems a curious taste. Always suggests variegated to me." "That is not how we mean it," said Miss Tallmadge solemnly, making way for more ladies who swarmed up the staircase. "We are a little group of people working on purely humanitarian principles, finding succor and employment for the destitute, thrown out of work by--"