"Of course I am home to Mrs. Linton. She will have tea with me."

She went to a glass to see if the tears which had been in her eyes--they
had not fallen--had left any traces that the acuteness of Ella Linton
might detect. The result of her observation was satisfactory; she would
not even need to sit with her back to the light.

Then Mrs. Linton was announced, and flowed into the arms of her friend
Phyllis, crying:

"Of course I knew that you would be at home to me, my beloved, even
though you might be in the midst of one of those brilliant speeches
which you write out for your father to deliver in the House and cause
people to fancy that he is the wittiest man in place--so unlike that
dreadful teetotal man who grins through the horse collar and thinks that
people are imposed on. Now let me look at you, you lucky girl! You are a
lucky girl, you know."

"Yes," said Phyllis, "you have called on me. We shall have tea in a
minute. How good of you to come to me the first day you arrived in town!
How well you are looking, my Ella!"

"So glad you think so," said Ella. "I haven't aged much during the eight
months we have been apart. I have had a very good time on the whole,
and so had Stephen, though he was with me for close upon a month, poor
little man! But it is you, Phyllis, it is you who are the girl of the
hour. Heavens! you were farsighted! Who could have imagined that he
would become so famous all in a moment? I must confess that when you
wrote to me that letter telling me of your engagement, and how happy you
were, I was a little cross. I could not clearly see you the wife of a