Ida had a reception two weeks after her return from her bridal trip,
and an elaborate menu was provided by a caterer from New York. Maria,
in a new white gown, with a white bow on her hair, sat at one end of
the dining-table, shining with cut-glass and softly lighted with
wax-candles under rose-colored shades in silver candlesticks, and
poured chocolate, while another young girl opposite dipped lemonade
from a great cut-glass punch-bowl, which had been one of the
wedding-presents. The table was strewn with pink-and-white
carnations. Maria caught a glimpse now and then of her new mother, in
a rose-colored gown, with a bunch of pink roses on her breast,
standing with her father receiving their guests, and she could
scarcely believe that she was awake and it was really happening. She
began to take a certain pleasure in the excitement. She heard one
woman say to another how pretty she was, "poor little thing," and her
heart throbbed with satisfaction. She felt at once beautiful and
appealing to other people, because of her misfortunes. She turned the
chocolate carefully, and put some whipped-cream on top of each dainty
cup; and, for the first time since her father's marriage, she was not
consciously unhappy. She glanced across the table at the other little
girl, Amy Long, who was dark, and wore a pink bow on her hair, and
she was sure that she herself was much prettier. Then, too, Amy had
not the sad distinction of having lost her mother, and having a
step-mother thrust upon her in a year's time. It is true that once
when Amy's mother, large and portly in a blue satin which gave out
pale white lights on the curves of her great arms and back, and whose
roseate face looked forth from a fichu of real lace pinned with a
great pearl brooch, came up behind her little daughter and
straightened the pink bow on her hair, Maria felt a cruel little
pang. There was something about the look of loving admiration which
Mrs. Long gave her daughter that stung Maria's heart with a sense of