Her tone was very quiet, her whole manner was quiet; the dress was simplicity itself. A little lace kerchief was knotted about her throat. "That is a very feminine idea," remarked the professor, seeming to give it careful attention. "Peculiarly feminine, I should say. And--does it, my dear?" "Not quite," she answered. "A little. When I first put it on and stood before the glass I forgot a good many things for a few moments, and then, suddenly, I heard the children's voices in the nursery, and Richard came in, and Bertha Herrick was gone. You know I was Bertha Herrick when I wore this--Bertha Herrick, thinking of her first party." "Yes, my dear," he responded, "I--I remember." There were a few moments of silence, in which he looked abstractedly thoughtful, but presently he bestirred himself. "By the by," he said, "that reminds me. Didn't I understand that there was a great party somewhere to-night? Mr. Arbuthnot left me to go to it, I think. I thought there was a reason for my surprise at seeing you. That was it. Surely you should have been at the great party instead of here." "Well," she replied, "I suppose I should, but for some curious accident or other--I don't know what the accident is or how it happened--I should have had an invitation--of course if it had chanced to reach me; but something has occurred to prevent it doing so, I suppose. Such things happen, you know. To all intents and purposes I have not been invited, so I could not go. And I am very glad. I would rather be here." "I would rather have you here," he returned, "if such seclusion pleases you. But I can hardly imagine, my dear, how the party"-- She put her hand on his caressingly. "It cannot be an entire success," she said. "It won't, in my absence; but misfortunes befall even the magnificent and prosperous, and the party must console itself. I like to be here--I like very much to be here." He glanced at her gray dress again. "Bertha Herrick would have preferred the party," he remarked. "Bertha Amory is wiser," she said. "We will be quiet together--and happy." They were very quiet. The thought occurred to the professor several times during the evening. She kept her seat near him, and talked to him, speaking, he noticed, principally of her children and of the past; the time she had spent at home before her marriage seemed to be present in her mind. "I wonder," she said once, thoughtfully, "what sort of girl I was? I can only remember that I was such a happy girl! Do _you_ remember that I was a specially self-indulgent or frivolous one? But I am afraid you would not tell me, if you did." "My dear," he said, in response, "you were a natural, simple, joyous creature, and a great pleasure to us." She gave his hand a little pressure. "_I_ can remember that you were always good to me," she said. "I used to think you were a little curious about me, and wondered what I would do in the future. Now it is my turn to wonder if I am at all what you thought I would be?"