I came, Clarissa, to beg a note of invitation for Peggy Van Dam. She has
but just returned from Albany, and will be mightily pleased to be bidden
to your card-party."

"I wondered if she would be in time," said Clarissa, seating herself at
her claw-legged, brass-mounted writing-table. "Has she changed much,
Kitty--not that I mean"--and Clarissa's sentence ended in a laugh.

"There was room for it," finished Kitty. "No, she is just the same:
aping youth, with the desire to conceal age."

"Oh, Kitty, that's the severest speech I ever knew you guilty of!"

"Ill-natured, aye," quoth Kitty, with a comical sigh; "the world's awry
this morning and I must vent my crossness on somebody, so let it be
Peggy. But if I can carry her your note it will atone for my peevish
speech a dozen times, for is not Captain Sir John Faulkner coming, and
you know as well as all of us that Peggy's airs and graces are most
apparent in his company."

Betty looked quickly up into Kitty's face as she rattled on gayly, and
detected an air of trouble and anxiety that was most unusual. And as
they presently followed Clarissa downstairs, she paused at the landing
and slid her little fingers into Kitty's as she whispered:--

"What's amiss? You are worried, I perceive; can I help you?" Kitty
started, and turning her head over her shoulder said softly:--

"Not now, but I know that you are true-hearted and quick-witted; I dare
not say one word more," and with an affectionate pressure, she dropped