No. 13 Washington Square

the n

ance of respectable desertion-and up in her sitting-room, lighted only by little diamond panes in her thick shutters, sat Mrs. De Peyster reading a newspaper. From this she gleaned that Mrs. De Peyster had sailed that morning on the Plutonia, having gone on board lat

few intellects could have evolved. And thus far it had worked to perfection, and there was no doubt but that it would work so to the end; for, although Olivetta, to be sure, was r

been a trying one, and she was tired. By the present arrangement, which she regarded as nothing short of an inspiration, her social prestige was secure, her financial difficulties were taken care of, and she herself would have the desired opportunity for a sorely needed rest. She would have her books, she would have the society of

ooked forward to it, the m

she had no slightest doubt of that. And when they met again, he would be in a mood to fit into the place she had carefully prepared for him. Of course, she wo

such criticism. There remained only Judge Harvey's offense. Certainly he had been inexcusably outspoken and officious. Her resentment had settled down into a calm, implacable, changel

ing the progress of the police in their search for James Preston, the forger

there had been relaxed moods in which she had dallied pleasantly with the thought of marrying

n Miss Gardner had practiced, she had seemed a nice girl; and Mrs. De Peyster was lenient enough to feel a very honest wish that t

oric Families in America," in which first place was given to an account of the glories of the De Peysters. Though premiership was no better than the family's due, she was secretly pleased with her forebears' place in the volume-in a sublimated way it was the equivalent of going in first to dinner among distinguished guests. She liked frequently to gla

ve-noted sixteenth and seventeenth century ancestors of the American De Peysters has not been traced, as the work of translating and analyzing the records of the intervening period is still incompleted. Sufficient has been ascertained, however, to leave no doubt of the continual

t on a framed steel engraving from the painting of Abraham De Peyster, Mayor of New York from 1691 to 1693. The picture pleased her, with its aristocratically hooked nose, its full wig, its smile of amiable condescension.

room. Yes, it was good. M. Dubois had caught the peculiar De Peyster quality. One looked at it and instincti

ring rugs, through silken hangings that rustled discreet homage at her passing, by dark tapestries lit with threads of gold, among shadowy bronzes and famil

breathe beyond the door. She played well, for she loved the piano and had a real gift for instrumentation. Often when she played for her friends, she had to hold herself in consciously, had to play be

ing to be anothe

l so restful. And before her were three months-three b

ng had all been switched off; during the summer the illumination would, of course, have to be unsuspiciously meager. To a mortal of a less exalted sphere the repast would have seemed a banquet. Mrs. De Peyster, though an ascetic at noon, was something of an ep

leisurely began on her iced strawberries, "I had quite for

er had not noticed that throughout the meal her fa

py, my dear. My summer may grow somewhat tedious toward the end

a salad plate slipped from Mat

demanded Mrs. De Peyster, a t

. I'll see that you get it, b-b

t kno

ople, and I've stayed here alone now for fifteen summers, and they know I eat very little and care only for plain food. And so to-d

, and was staring at her confederate. "I neve

ke. And, besides, William received the

icious!" interrupt

it does

having so much

high quali

come curious-and might f

I was thinkin

Peyster

e cannot ru

m, we'd better change

out that there was supposed to be only a single pe

ink it would be safer, ma'

nce. Mrs. De Peyster's

ve for the summer, for the entire summer, upon the amo

that way

yster spoke out in a voic

-two adult persons will have to live for t

ld you, I don't eat much. I've usually had

d as though she were going to faint. "A little t

tanding over the remains of the last genuine meal she expected

in a rebuking tone, "I'm surprised y

ne, ma'am?

f any other procedure. You are to go out in person, at night, if you like, to shops where you are not know

, ma'am," meekl

ing further diverted by the mild excitement of being dressed in one of Matilda's sober housekeeper gowns, the twin of the dress Matilda now wore, for her evening

e irritation what was the matter. Matilda hastily assured her mistress that there was nothing-nothing at all;-and buttoned a few more buttonholes over the wrong buttons.

. "What is the matter with you, Matild

you-you wouldn'

aid I may be

thinking of th

s there to b

'am, nothing

she ordered. "But I believe I left a squab and some asparagus. You might put them, and any other little thing you have, on the dining-room table; I shall prob

"Matilda"-very severely-"are

uming to advise you, ma'am, but if you want to pas

er instinct to be thoughtful of those who served her. "We shall both try to get to bed early, my dear. You es

curb. "Up Fifth Avenue and into the Park, William," she said. She settled back into the courtly embrace of the cushions; she breathed deep of the freedom of the soft Ma

d with just the right p

not possibly h