had bewildered Mr. Sandford--and me.

"There is not much more to tell, Ida. This was the disappointment.
This is the cause of my dislike for a certain shade of _feuille-morte_
satin. It disappointed me of that rose brocade which I was never to
see. You shall hear how I got through the visit, however. This
meeting, which (like so many meetings) had proved the very reverse of
what was hoped.

"Through an angle of Aunt Harriet's pelisse, I watched the meeting
between my grandmother and Mrs. Moss. They kissed and then drew back
and looked at each other, still holding hands. I wondered if my
grandmother felt as I felt. I could not tell. With one of her smiles,
she bent forward, and, kissing Mrs. Moss again, said:

"'God bless you, Anastatia.'

"'God bless you, Elizabeth.'

"It was the first time Mrs. Moss had spoken, and her voice was rather
gruff. Then both ladies sat down, and my grandmother drew out her
pocket-handkerchief and wiped her eyes. Mrs. Moss began (as I thought)
to look for hers, and, not finding it, called,

"'Metcalfe!'

on which a faded little woman, with a forefinger in a faded-looking
book, came out from behind some window-curtains, and, rummaging Mrs.
Moss's chair with a practised hand, produced a large silver
snuff-box, from which Mrs. Moss took a pinch, and then offered it to