The Butterfly House

New York that evening. The dinner was set for rather a late hour in order to enable Margaret to secure this rest before the train-time. She lay on a couch before the fire, in her room wh

ard pillow. She did not relax her head, but she did relax her

er strenuously. She had not been pleased with the impression which Mrs. Sarah Joy Snyder had made upon the Zenith Club, because Mrs. Slade, and not she, had been instrumental in securing her valuable services. Mrs. Edes had a Napoleonic ambition which was tragic and pathetic, because it could command only a narrow scope for its really unusual force. If Mrs. Edes had only been possessed of the opportunity to subjugate Europe, nothing except another Waterloo could have stopped her onward march. But she had absolutely nothing to subjugate except poor little Fairbridg

Wilbur Edes owned millions, and she been armed with the power which they can convey, she might have worked miracles in her subtle feminine fashion. She would always have worked subtly, and never believed her feminine self. She understood its worth too well. She would have conquer

upon this dinner, which he was to give at an extravagant hotel to some people whom Mrs. Edes had met last summer, and who, if not actually in the great swim, were in the outer froth of it, and she had vague imaginings of future gain through them. Wilbur had carried his dress suit in that morning. He was to take a room in the hotel and change, and meet her at the New York

miliation. As it was, she realised that for her, her, to be obliged to cross the ferry was an insult at the hands of Providence. But the tunnel was no better, perhaps worse,-that plunged into depths below the waters, like one in a public bath. Anything so exqui

t her, and they would take a taxicab, but even a taxicab seemed rather humiliating to her. It should have been her own private motor car. And she would be obliged to descend the stairs at the station ungracefully, one hand

was to wear her yellow chiffon gown, with touches of gold embroidery, a gold comb set with topazes in her yellow hair, and on her breast a large, gleaming stone which was a yellow diamond of very considerable value. Wilbur had carried in his suit case her yellow satin slippers, her gold-beaded fan, and t

vening cloak had pockets. The evening cloak lay beside the yellow chiffon gown, carefully disposed on the bed, which had a lace counterpane over ye

in a democratic country at all unless she had millions. She was out of place, as much out of place as a splendid Angora in an alley. Fairbridge to her instincts was as an alley; yet since it was her alley, she had to make the best of it. Had she not made the best of it, exalted it, magnified it, she would have gone mad. Wherefore the triumph of Mrs. Slade in presenting

e additional triumph of Mrs. Slade in securing this rather remarkable man at the Zenith Club, something which she herself had never been able to do. Von Rosen's face came before her. She considered it a handsome fac

the telephone bell close beside her divan rang, and she took up the receiver care

it as Von Rosen's although it had an agita

ian girl, is at my home. She is in a swoon or something. We cannot revive her. Is the doctor a

hin and silvery as a reed. "You are speaking to Mrs. Wilbur Edes. My telep

the telephone. "Sorry to have dis

iffly, and began to dress. She had just enough time to dress leisurely and catch the train. She called on one of the two maids to assist her and was quite equipped, even to the little mink toque, fastened very carefully on her shining head, when there was a soft push at the door, a

their sharp, delicate little faces. It was not exactly admiration

e, "do not wear that blue hair-ribbon agai

, then the other, Maida with the

rs. Edes, and the two little girls stoo

d head. The little girls watched the last yellow swirl of their mother

, myself, when I'm

Maida. "As for me, I mean to have a gown just

rling little laugh. "Ho," said she, "

her of her own, and had been ruthlessly hanging her mistress's gown which she had worn t

id she, "your ma sid f

k in a charming room. There were garlands of rosebuds on the

ters lay awake, building air-castles about themselves and their boy-lovers,

Maida remarked. Her voice sounded incredibly old, full of fa

ok awfully funny in a gown l

plays dominoes with Amy," s

sweet converse with Jim Carr. This air-castle was the abode of innocence, but it was not yet time for its building at all. It was such a little childish creature who lay curled up under t

the pier where her husband waited. She kept one gloved hand upon the fold of her gown, ready to clutch it effectually clear of the dirty deck when the pier was reached. When she was in the taxicab with Wilbur, she thought again of Von Rosen.

at her side. "The question is why the Syrian girl ch

aid Margaret. "Have you seen th

please her, aside from his interest in his profession. Poor Wilbur Edes thought his wife very wonderful, and watched with delight the hats doffed when she entered the hotel lift like a little beruffled yellow canary.

shed that he had more time at home, to get them firmly fixed in his comprehension. Without the slightest condemnation of his wife, he had never regarded her as a woman in whom the maternal was a distinguishing feature. He saw with approbation the charming externals with which she surrounded their offspring. It was a gratification to him to be quite sure that Maida's hair

re in their bedroom at the hotel, and he was fitting the y

a to put them to bed. Do you think the orchids

glad that you told Em

rge B. Slade is most u

hy

Mrs. Sarah Joy Snyder

do her st

de was so pleased, it

er party), "know a lot of theatrical people. I will see if I can't get them to induce somebody, say Lydia Greenwa

ld rather have it in the spring, because everything looks so mu

no better employment for it than to enable his adored wife to outshine Mrs. George B. Slade. When in New York engaged in his profession, Wilbur Edes was entirely free from the vo

will make Marion Slade furious," she said. She exten

ing, m

d that she tried to do

thout making a crease in her fair little face. She was really adorable, far more than pretty, leaning back with

Dominie's house," said Wilbur. "She could not have found a

d not the slightest interest in Dominie von Rosen or any man, except her husband; and in him only because he was her husba

argaret, had proposed to Alice Mendon. Alice had never told, and he had not, consequently Margaret did not know. Had she known it would have made no difference, since she could not imagine any man preferring Alice to herself. All her jealousy was based upon the facts of her superior height, and ability to carry herself well, where she knew herself under many circumstance

etting Lydia Greenway to read, you d

at is not absolutely sure, but if it is

ime in the harmony or discord of life, that Von Rosen's housekeeper, Jane R

he realised that his lips were st

hat heavy suit case, as heavy as lead, for I hefted it," said Jane Riggs, "and she c

t is

d him a dog everybody is so scared of, and she

t is

ok at him, and I put some of my old flannels and my shimmy on him, and Doctor Sturtevant has got him in my darning basket, all lined with ne

pron crackled. Von Rosen took hold of her shou

e where there was more women than one," said Jane Riggs.

osen, and he gathered up the night papers in

resident nurse of Fairbridge. Von Rosen sprang to the telephone, but he could get no

d he felt a warm tongue lap. Von Rosen patted the dog's head. Here was sympathy. The cat's leap into his lap had been purely selfish. Von Rosen listened. He got up, and tried to telephone again, but got no response from Central. He hung up the receiver emphatically and sat down again. The dog again came close, and he patted t

humanity upstairs was lifting up its voice of feeble rage and woe because of its entrance into exis

beggar going to li

rom the present outlook," replied

Rosen anxiously. "I think the telephone is

s a jewel, and I will get Mrs. Bestw

oked at him

will get Mrs. Bestwick here as soon as possible. I think-the child will have t

urse," said

poke in a muffled tone, muffled as Von Rosen knew because of the presence of death and life in the house. "The roast is in the oven, Mr. von Rosen," said

called Von Rosen in alarm. "

lanced across the table, and a blush like that of a girl overspread his dark face. He had a vision of a high chair, and a child installed therein with the customary bib and spoon. It was a singular circumstance, but everything in life moves in

ndry men, poor little yellow figures, shuffling about with bags of soiled linen, with thrills of recoil. She would not have acknowledged it to herself, for she came of a race which favoured abolition, but nothing could have induced her to have a coloured girl in her kitchen. Her imaginations and prejudices were stained as white as her skin. There was a lone man living on the outskirts of Fairbridge, in a little shack built by himself in the woods, who was said to have Indian blood in his veins, and Mrs. Sturtevant never saw him without that awful thrill of recoil. When the little O

been conscious of yearnings and longings which were agonies, when Doctor Sturtevant, after the poor young unknown mot

at I know of," said she, "but I can't have thi

rbridge, and he will be a beautiful boy. Moreover, we have every reason to believe that he was born in wedlock. There was a ring on a poor string of a ribbon on the mother's neck, and there was

t make up my mind to adopt a baby, that belonged

o go over and see it. Maria Sturtevant gazed at the tiny scrap of humanity curled up in Jane Riggs' darning basket, the old-young face creased as softly as a rosebud, with none of its beauty,

an't make up my mind to adopt a baby coming from such queer people." Then she was c

"I don't know that anybody has asked

" said he, "the fact is, Jane and I have talked it over, and she thinks she can manage,

o be taken out of my darning basket," said Jane Riggs wit

, "even if he does come from such queer stock." Her hus

l talk," he

as a little over three months old, and had been promoted to a crib, and a perambulator, had been the unconscious recipient of many gifts from the women of Von Rosen's parish, and of

around here," said she, "and you

to be nervous, Jane. There is hardly a chance he has anything to do with the baby

e," said Jane stoutly

een his wife, and produced letters signed with the name which those in her possession had borne. Von Rosen was convinced. There was something about the boy with his haughty, almost sullen, oriental manner which bore the stamp of truth. However, when he demanded only the suit-case which his dead wife had brought when she came to the house, Von Rosen was relieved. He produced it at once, and his wonder and disgust mounted to

al was that poor girl's husband,

ask to have

l he wanted was the article of va

elieved. "Outlandish peo

finished dressing, sobbing aloud like a child, her face rigidly convulsed