Accordingly Carrie started for the parlor, meeting in the hall her
mother, who was in a sea of trouble concerning the dinner. "Old
Milly," she said, "had gone to bed out of pure hatefulness,
pretending she had got a _collapse_, as she called it."

"Can't Hagar do," asked Carrie, anxious that Mrs. Graham's first
dinner with them should be in style.

"Yes, but she can't do everything--somebody must superintend her, and
as for burning myself brown over the dishes and then coming to the
table, I won't."

"Why not make 'Lena go into the kitchen--it won't hurt her to-day
more than it did yesterday," suggested Carrie.

"A good idea," returned her mother, and stepping to the parlor door
she called 'Lena from a most interesting conversation with Mr.
Graham, who, the moment his wife was gone, had taken a seat by her
side, and now seemed oblivious to all else save her.

There was a strange tenderness in the tones of his voice and in the
expression of his eyes as they rested upon her, and Durward, who well
knew his mother's peculiarities, felt glad that she was not present,
while at the same time he wondered that his father should appear so
deeply interested in an entire stranger.

"'Lena, I wish to speak with you," said Mrs. Livingstone, appearing
at the door, and 'Lena, gracefully excusing herself, left the room,
while Mr. Graham commenced pacing the floor in a slow, abstracted
manner, ever and anon wiping away the beaded drops which stood