“Miss Tracy is on the north piazza talking with Mr. Mason,” Celine said, “and Miss Alice most likely has gone on some errand for her. I saw her going up the street.” Mrs. Tracy nodded, and after a time decided to go herself to the north piazza, or office, and inquire for a safe. She had not met Mrs. Mason and felt rather anxious to do so. Nothing could be bluer or purer in her estimation than the Tracy and Allen blood mixed, but the Mason blood was nearly as blue, and she had a great desire to be allied with it through a marriage of Helen with Craig. Consequently she was prepared to be very gracious to the mother. The gown she wore was selected with some reference to Mrs. Mason, who had been abroad and would recognize Paris workmanship. As she was passing the foot of the stairs she heard the sound of a footstep and saw a tall lady descending whom she knew must be Mrs. Mason from her air of good breeding and the dignity with which she bore herself. “Good morning,” Mrs. Mason said. “We need not stand on ceremony here. I know you are Mrs. Tracy, and I am Mrs. Mason.” Craig, who knew his mother’s opinion of fashionable women like Mrs. Tracy, would have been astonished at her cordiality, but Mrs. Mason was a lady, and as such she would treat Mrs. Tracy when associated with her in the same house. Mrs. Tracy was delighted and met her advance effusively and told her where she was going. “I think we shall find our young people there. Yes, here they are,” she said, with a meaning smile as she turned the corner and saw them; Craig in his usual place; Helen, who, on the pretext of getting out of the glare of the noonday light, had moved her seat, sitting near him, and Alice on the steps. In a moment Craig arose and bowed to Mrs. Tracy, whom his mother presented to him, and who sank into a chair, as if exertion of any kind were too much for her delicate frame. “Ar’n’t you going to introduce me to your mother?” Helen asked, as she saw Craig resuming his seat. “I beg your pardon for my thoughtlessness,” he said. “I must have lost my head. Mother, this is Miss Helen Tracy.” Mrs. Mason bowed to her a little stiffly, but Helen was not be ignored, and talked on in a familiar, chatty way, until she saw from her mother’s face that she was growing restless and anxious for a chance to speak. “What is it, mamma?” she said at last. “Do you want anything?” “Yes,” her mother replied. “I wish to see Mr. Taylor, or some responsible person with regard to my diamonds. Do you know if he is in the office?” She looked at Craig, who arose at once and said he would inquire. Returning in a moment he brought Mark with him, saying Mr. Taylor was not in, but Mr. Hilton would perhaps do as well, if she were thinking of the safe. Mrs. Tracy’s face showed that she would rather deal with the proprietor, and she finally said so. She had opened the boxes and put them upon the table where the jewels shone and flashed in a bit of sunlight which fell across them.