Sunday with his mother to the Presbyterian church where his
grandfather had preached to an earlier generation.

On the Sunday after his encounter with Arthur Carroll with reference
to the bill, he went to church as usual with his mother.

Mrs. Anderson was a picture of a Sunday, in a rich lavender silk and
a magnificent though old-fashioned lace shawl which floated from her
shoulder in a fairy net-work of black roses. She would never wear
plain black like most women of her age. She was one of the blue-eyed
women who looks well in lavender. Her blue eyes, now looking at her
son from under the rich purples and lavenders of the velvet pansies
on her bonnet, got an indeterminate color like myrtle blossoms. A
deeper pink also showed on her cheeks because of the color of her
gown.

"Mother, you are just such a mixture of color as that lilac-bush,"
said her son, irrelevantly, looking from her to a great lilac-bush in
the corner of the yard they were passing. It was tipped with rose on
the delicate ends of its blooming racemes, which shaded to blue at
the bases.

"Did you see those new people in church to-day?" said she.

"Yes, I think I did," replied Randolph. "They sat just in front of
the Egglestons, didn't they?"

"Yes," said his mother, "they did sit there. There is quite a large
family. The ladies are all very nice-looking, too, and they all look
alike. If they are going to church, such a family as that, and so