at the vigorous way in which he trod through the hall, and
slammed the front door after him. Her spirits just kept the
medium, and did neither. But they were in the same doubtful
mood still an hour after, when he came back with a paper
parcel he had brought home under his arm, and unrolled a fine
embroidered muslin; her eyes were very unsteady in carrying
their brief messages of thankfulness, as if they feared saying
too much. The doctor, however, was in the mood for doing, not
talking, by looks or otherwise. Mrs. Pritchard was called into
consultation, and with great pride and delight engaged to have
the dress and all things else in due order by the following
night; her eyes saying all manner of gratulatory things as
they went from the muslin to Fleda, and from Fleda to Dr.
Gregory.

The rest of the day was, not books, but needlefuls of thread;
and from the confusion of laces and draperies, Fleda was
almost glad to escape, and go to the concert — but for one
item; that spoiled it.

They were in their seats early. Fleda managed successfully to
place the two Evelyns between her and Mr. Thorn, and then
prepared herself to wear out the evening with patience.

"My dear Fleda!" whispered Constance, after some time spent in
restless reconnoitring of everything — "I don't see my English
rose anywhere!"

"Hush!" said Fleda, smiling. "That happened not to be an
English rose, Constance."