He looked more like other men in his ordinary clothing.  George liked a bit of flash, too, in his dress—­a red necktie or gold chain stretched over his waistcoat.

Susy refused at first, steadily.  At last, however, came our final night, when George was to produce his great leaping feat, never yet performed in public.  We had been practising it for months, and South judged it best to try it first before a small, quiet audience, for the risk was horrible.  Whether, because it was to be the last night, and her kind heart disliked to hurt him by refusal, or whether she loved him better than either she or he knew, I could not tell, but I saw she was strongly tempted to go.  She was an innocent little thing, and not used to hide what she felt.  Her eyes were red that morning, as though she had been crying all the night.  Perhaps, because I was a married man, and quieter than George, she acted more freely with me than him.

“I wish I knew what to do,” she said, looking up to me with her eyes full of tears.  There was nobody in the room but her grandmother.

“I couldn’t advise you, Miss Susy,” says I.  “Your church discipline goes against our trade, I know.”

“I know what’s right myself:  I don’t need church discipline to teach me,” she said sharply.

“I think I’d go, Susy,” said her grandmother.  “It is a concert, after all:  it’s not a play.”

“The name doesn’t alter it.”

Seeing the temper she was in, I thought it best to say no more, but the old lady added, “It’s Mr. George’s last night.  Dear, dear! how I’ll miss him!”

Susy turned quickly to the window.  “Why does he follow such godless ways then?” she cried.  She stood still a good while, and when she turned about her pale little face made my heart ache.  “I’ll take home Mrs. Tyson’s dress now, grandmother,” she said, and went out of the room.  I forgot to tell you Susy was a seamstress.  Well, the bundle was large, and I offered to carry it for her, as the time for rehearsal did not come till noon.  She crept alongside of me without a word, looking weak and done-out:  she was always so busy and bright, it was the more noticeable.  The house where the dress was to go was one of the largest in the town.  The servant showed us into a back parlor, and took the dress up to her mistress.  I looked around me a great deal, for I’d never been in such a house before; but very soon I caught sight of a lady who made me forget carpets and pictures.  I only saw her in the mirror, for she was standing by the fireplace in the front room.  The door was open between.  It wasn’t that she was especially pretty, but in her white morning-dress, with lace about her throat and her fair hair drawn back from her face, I thought she was the delicatest, softest, finest thing of man- or woman-kind I ever say.

“Look there, Susy! look there!” I whispered.

“It is a Mrs. Lloyd from New York.  She is here on a visit.  That is her husband;” and then she went down into her own gloomy thoughts again.