"Now we're goin' to see ef the paper says anythin' about our Bessie," said

Grandmother Brady the next morning, settling her spectacles over her nose

comfortably and crossing one fat gingham knee over the other. "I always

read the society notes, Bess."

Elizabeth smiled, and her grandmother read down, the column: "Mr. George Trescott Benedict and his mother, Mrs. Vincent Benedict, have

arrived home after an extended tower of Europe," read Mrs. Brady. "Mrs.

Benedict is much improved in health. It is rumored they will spend the

summer at their country seat on Wissahickon Heights."

"My!" interrupted Lizzie with her mouth full of fried potatoes. "That's

that fellow that was engaged to that Miss What's-her-Name Loring. Don't

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you 'member? They had his picture in the papers, and her; and then all at

once she threw him over for some dook or something, and this feller went

off. I heard about it from Mame. Her sister works in a department-store,

and she knows Miss Loring. She says she's an awfully handsome girl, and

George Benedict was just gone on her. He had a fearful case. Mame says

Miss Loring--what is her name?--O, Geraldine--Geraldine Loring bought some

lace of her. She heard her say it was for the gown she was going to wear

at the horse-show. They had her picture in the paper just after the

horse-show, and it was all over lace, I saw it. It cost a whole lot. I

forget how many dollars a yard. But there was something the matter with

the dook. She didn't marry him, after all. In her picture she was driving

four horses. Don't you remember it, grandma? She sat up tall and high on a

seat, holding a whole lot of ribbons and whips and things. She has an

elegant figger. I guess mebbe the dook wasn't rich enough. She hasn't been

engaged to anybody else, and I shouldn't wonder now but she'd take George

Benedict back. He was so awful stuck on her!"

Lizzie rattled on, and the grandmother read more society notes, but

Elizabeth heard no more. Her hear had suddenly frozen, and dropped down

like lead into her being. She felt as if she never would be able to raise

it again. The lady! Surely she had forgotten the lady. But Geraldine

Loring! Of all women! Could it be possible? Geraldine Loring was

almost--well, fast, at least, as nearly so as one who was really of a fine

old family, and still held her own in society, could be. She was beautiful

as a picture; but her face, to Elizabeth's mind, was lacking in fine

feeling and intellect. A great pity went out from her heart to the man

whose fate was in that doll-girl's hands. True, she had heard that Miss

Loring's family were unquestionable, and she knew her mother was a most

charming woman. Perhaps she had misjudged her. She must have done so if he

cared for her, for it could not be otherwise.




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