and nothing occurred of any importance to disturb her until the morning
of the day appointed for the party, when it seemed as if every evil
culminated at once. First, the colored boy who was to wait in the upper
hall came down with measles. Then Grace Atherton drove round in her
carriage to say that it would be impossible for her to be present, as
she had received news from New York which made it necessary for her to
go there by the next train. She was exceedingly sorry, she said, and for
once in her life Grace was sincere. She _was_ anxious to attend the
party, for, as she said to Edith St. Claire in confidence, she wanted to
see old Peterkin in his swallow-tail and white vest, with a shirt-front
as big as a platter. There was a great deal of sarcasm and ridicule in
Grace Atherton's nature, but at heart she was kind and meant to be just,
and after a fashion really liked Mrs. Tracy, to whom she had been of
service in various ways, helping her to fill her new position more
gracefully than she could otherwise have done, and enlightening her
without seeming to do so on many points which puzzled her sorely; on the
whole they were good friends, and, after expressing her regret that she
could not be present in the evening, Grace stood a few moments chatting
familiarly and offering to send over flowers from her greenhouse, and
her own maid to arrange Mrs. Tracy's hair and assist her in dressing.
Then she took her leave, and it was her carriage Mrs. Tracy was watching
as it went down the avenue, when little Harold Hastings appeared around
the corner of the house, and, coming up the steps, took off his cap
respectfully as he said:

'Grandma sends you her compliments, and is very sorry that she has
rheumatism this morning and cannot come to-night to help you. She
thinks, perhaps, you can get Mrs. Mosher.'

'Your grandmother can't come, when I depended so much upon her, and she