In the afternoon an elegant open barouche took the three out riding, and Colonel Falconer felt very proud of his beautiful wife and almost equally beautiful niece, in their carriage costumes. It was a lovely May day, and the city presented its best appearance under a blue, smiling sky, which every Virginian believed as fair as that of Italy. They rode out upon the popular Grove Road, then the most fashionable drive in the city, and to that beautiful place, the New Reservoir, with its bright waters glittering in the sun. Pansy exclaimed with delight at the miniature lake, with the water lilies fringing the green banks, and the little boats rocking on its breast. Then the beautiful cemetery of Hollywood, with its magnificent monument to the Confederate dead, was the next point of interest. Colonel Falconer then gave the command to drive through the principal parks and streets. “Do not forget Seventh Street,” Juliette whispered to the driver, and when they were rolling along before an immense structure on that street she said: “That building, Mrs. Falconer, is the great tobacco factory of Arnell & Grey. They employ an immense number of girls and women to work for them--twelve hundred at least, I am told. Would you not like to go through the factory? I presume it would furnish some interesting sights to one unfamiliar with our Southern institutions.” “I dare say it would, but unfortunately the smell of tobacco always makes me very ill. Colonel Falconer, cannot we drive faster, so as to escape this unpleasant odor?” exclaimed Pansy. He saw that her face had certainly grown very pale, while her eyes were half closed. He directed the driver to hasten out of the neighborhood. “I am sorry it sickened you, but the odor was strong,” said Juliette. “I do not know how those poor girls endure it. Their very clothing must be impregnated with the disagreeable odor. But perhaps they do not mind it like you and I, Mrs. Falconer--useless, fine ladies that we are.” Mrs. Falconer’s blue eyes flashed, and the color rushed back into her pale cheeks. She answered, with a flash of girlish spirit: “You and I, Miss Ives, are made of the same clay as those factory girls. We are more fortunate, that is all.” “Goodness, Uncle Falconer, I hope your wife isn’t a socialist!” exclaimed Juliette, shrugging her shoulders. He frowned, and answered: “My wife is an angel, Juliette, and has the kindest, tenderest heart in the world. I’m glad to hear her speak up for our Richmond working girls. I have the greatest respect for them all, as well as sympathy for the poverty that makes their lot in life so hard. I know also that many of them are from good families that were reduced to poverty by the late war.” Juliette turned her back on him impatiently, and addressed herself to Pansy: “You remember how foolishly I behaved last night, taking you for a girl that disgraced her family and drowned herself three years ago?” “Yes,” Pansy answered coldly.