The Butterfly House

and the little change would do her good. She would take the train with her husband, but a different ferry, as she wished to go up town. Wilbur acquiesced readily. "It is a mi

nces bestowed upon her in the Fairbridge station, while they were waiting for the train. Margaret had a peculiar knack in designing costumes which were at once plain and striking. This morning she wore a black China silk, through the thin bodice of which was visible an under silk strewn with gold disks. Her girdle was clasped with a gold buckle, and when she moved there were slight glimpses of a yellow silk petticoat. Her hat was black, but under the brim was tucked a yellow rose against her yellow hair. Then to finish all, Margaret wore in the lace at her throat, a great brooch of turquoise matrix, which matched her eyes. Her husband realised her as perfectly attired, although he did not in the least understand why. He knew that his Margaret looked a woman of another race from the others in the station, in their tailored skirts, and shirtwaists, with their coats over arm, and their shopping bags firmly clutched. It was a warm morning, and feminine Fairbridge's idea of a suitable costume for a New York shopping trip was a tailored suit, and a shirtwaist, and as a rule, the shirtwaist did not fit. Margaret never wore shirtwaists,-she understood that she was too short unless she combined a white skirt with a wais

e told himself that it must have been the effect of the light or that she had pinned on her hat at a different angle. Women are so perplexing, and their attire alters them so strangely. But Wilbur Edes had reason to be puzzled. Margaret had looked and really was different. In a little while she had become practically a different woman. Of course, she had only developed possibilities which had always been dormant within her, but they had been so dormant, that they had not been to

little pleasance of life. Were she to cross that pale, she felt that it might be distinctly amusing. Margaret was not a wicked woman, but virtue, not virtue in the ordinary sense of the word, but straight walking ahead according to the ideas of Fairbridge, had come to drive her at times to the verge of madness. Then, too, there was

man and two ladies, one quite young-a mere girl-the other from the resemblance and superior age, evidently her mother. The man was young and almost vulgarly well-groomed. He had given a glance at Margaret as she entered, a glance of admiration tempered with the consideration that in spite of her grace and beauty, she was probably older than himself. Then he continued to gaze furtively at the young girl who sat demurely, with eyes downcast beneath a soft, wild ta

visibility. Margaret was not easily put down by another woman. She stared absently at the ornate and weary decorations of the room. It was handsome, but tiresome, as everybody who ente

Miss Wallingford, who was a young Western woman and a rising, if not already arisen literary star, had signified her willingness to receive Mrs. Wilbur Edes in her own private sitting-room. Margaret was successful so far. She had pencilled on her card, "Can you see me on a matter of importance? I am not connected with the Press," and the young woman who esteemed nearly everything of

xcept those newspaper men, and I know everyone of them is married, and those two newspaper women who told about my sleeves being out of date," said Martha Wallingford, "and this Mrs. Edes may be real nice. I'm going to see her anyhow. We came so

n to the theatre every night and Coney Island, and

ll the people I have seen worth counting. They only came to make a little money out of me and my sleeves. I am glad I got this dress

price for that dr

h New York fashions. I really did not have a decent thing to wear when I started. Miss Slocumb did as well as she knew how, but her ideas are about three years behind New York. I didn't know myself, how should I? A

saving all his life, but it is not going to be s

e dress for you myself,

n the habit of being beholden to you for my clothes and I am not going

purple, it

aunt retreated precipitately before the sound of the opening door

served, for talent she possessed in such a marked degree as to make her phe

f obeisance; this charming elegantly attired lady before the Wester

ike a school girl. She was an odd combination of enormous egotism and the most painful shyness. She realised at a glance that she herself was provi

She quite agreed that it was a pleasure and privilege for Margaret to see her, the author of Hearts Astray, even if Margaret was herself so charming and so provokingly well dressed. Miss Martha Wallingford did not hide her light of talent under a bushel

which restored Margaret's confidence in her scheme. Martha Wallingford actually wore a frizzled bang, very finely frizzled too, and her hair was strained from the nape of her neck, and it seemed impossible that a young woman who knew no better than

ghter, Miss Edith Fay-Wyman, had not left town last week for their country house, Rose-In-Flower, at Hyphen-by-the-Sea, a most delightful spot. Mr. Edes and I have spent several week ends there. I am prevented from spending longer than week ends because I am kept at home by my two darling twin daughters. Mrs. Fay-Wy

d that newly risen literary star abruptl

a little older you will find that it amounts

rd, who was beginning to be angrily bewildered by her guest's long sentence

an she could well carry through, for this shy authoress was fast developing unexpected traits. However, Mar

lder and you will find that you do care, care very, very much. The understanding and sympathy of oth

en who were perfect cats," st

g into some spiritual liquid of divine sweetness. "Wait until you are older, my dear.

ch did not show at its best, in spite of veil and the velvety darkness of hat-shadow. This hotel sitting-room was full of garish

e almost brutal, clear-visioned young thing. Again she shrank a little from her task, again her spirit reasserted itself. She moved and brought her face somewhat more into the shadow. Then she spoke again. She wisely dropped the subject of feminine affinities. She plunged a

well tell you at once why I i

said Martha

to bring some well-known person, Mrs. Fay-Wyman, fo

it about that," said

, seemed to undergo a transformation akin to an explosion, out of which only one feature remained intact-the book, "Hearts Astray." If Miss Wallingford had not

ford made no reply. She had an expression of utter acquiescence in the admiration, also of having heard that sam

sday and remain the weekend, over Sunday. It would give me so much pleasure, and Fairbridge is a charming little village and there are really many

very much, thank you,"

prompt and warm response gives me. And-" Margaret looked about her rather vague

ates going away for a few days. She says it is just as much trouble packing as it would be

ave the pleasure of being presen

room. Aunt Susan in moments of impulse was quite capable of such coups. Martha glanced rather apprehensively toward the door leading into the bedroom but it did not open. Aunt Susan was indeed listening and she was rigid with indignation, but in truth, she did not want to accompany her niece upon this projected visit, and she was afraid of being drawn into such a step should she present herself. Aunt Susan did dislike making the effort of a visit for a few days only. Martha had told the truth. It was very hot, and the elder woman was not very strong. Moreove

?" she demand

he aped Margaret to perfection as she added,

nt you to do?" i

"what is the use of going over it all?

nd I heard you tell a lie about it. You told her I had gon

e in and see a woman dressed l

matter with

said

oing?" ask

now th

ut rather feebly, for she had a vague idea that it was her du

d get dressed. I have made up my mind to get that beautiful white silk dress we looked at yesterday. It did not need any alteration and I think I shall buy that pearl and amethyst necklace at Tiffany's

two or three stores," said the aunt sulkily, but she yielded to Martha's i

success, but always she had that chilling doubt of her power. Miss Martha Wallingford had impressed her as being a young woman capable of swift and unexpected movements. She was rather afraid of her but she did not confess her fear to Wilbur. When he inquired genially what kind of a girl the authoress was, she replied: "Oh, charming, of course, but the poor child does not know how to do up her hair." However, when Martha arrived Thursday afternoon and Margaret met her at the station, she, at a glance, discovered that the poor child had discovered how to do up her hair. Some persons' brains work in a great many di

ation. She looked about her very coolly, but afterward, upon her return to East Mordan, Illinois, she bragged a good deal about it. The room was really very charming and rather costly. The furniture was genuine First Empire; the walls, which were hung with paper covered with garlands of

how the dinner would be managed if the offer were accepted. To her relief, Martha gave her an offended stare.

a robe of such splendour that it might not have disgraced a court. It showed a great deal of her thin, yet pretty girlish neck, and it had a very long train. She had a gold fillet studded with diamonds for her hair-that hair which was now dressed according to the very latest mode-a mode which was startling, yet becoming, and she clasped around her throat the Tiffany necklace, and as a crowning touch, put on long white gloves. When she appeared upon the verandah where Margaret sat dressed in a pretty lingerie gown with Wilbur in a light grey business suit, the silence could be heard. Then there was one double gasp of admiration from Maida and Adelaide in their white frocks and blue ribbons. They looked at the visitor with p

tuation was too much for Margaret, that past mistress of situations, and her husband was conscious of a sensation approaching terror and also wrath whenever he glanced at the figure in sumptuous white, the figure expressing sulkiness in every feature and motion. Margaret was unmistakably sulky as the evening wore on and nobody came except this other girl of whom she took no

ill go to bed," sai

e weary," s

to me as dull here as in South Mordan, Illinois. I migh

looked at her almost in a bewildered fashion. Margaret sank

s a dinner party?" Wilb

would dress for a party, unless I told her, and it is Emma's night

ind, dear," he said, "when she gets her chance to do her

nothing to Martha about that "stunt." Was it p

made herself from a pattern after long study of the fashion plates in a Sunday newspaper and the result, although startling, still half convinced her. It was only after she had seen all the members of the Zenith Club seated and had gazed at their costumes, that she realised that she had made a worse mistake than that of the night before. To begin with, the day was very warm and her gown heavy and clumsy. The other ladies were arrayed in lovely lingeries or light silks and laces. The Zenith Club was exceedingly well dressed on that day. Martha sat in her place beside her hostess and her face looked like a sulky child's. Her eye-lids were swollen, her pouting lips dropped at the corners. She stiffened her chin until it became double. Margaret was inwardly perturbed but she concealed it.

eyes were so downcast that they gave the appearance of being closed. Her pretty face looked red and swollen. Everybody waited. She sat absolutely still and m

road in her views, pitied Margaret. She arose with considerable motion and spoke to Daisy Shaw at her right, and broke the ghastly silence, and immediately everything was in motion and refreshments were being passed, but Martha Wallingford, who had written Hearts Astray, was not there

She had refused to speak or to read before all those women's clubs and

ters at the head of a column in a morning paper on the table besid

er wrongs and planning how she shoul