Though she had of late devoted her attention to the Associated Charities and the Confederate Museum, neither of these worthy objects provided so agreeable an opportunity for the exercise of her benevolent instincts as did the presence of a wayward husband in the household.  For there could be no question of the thoroughness of Charley’s redemption.  The very cut of his clothes, the very colour of his necktie, proclaimed a triumph, for the prohibition party.

At last they were packed tightly in the touring car, and Charley, after imparting directions with the manner of a man who regards himself as the fount of wisdom, began expounding the noisy gospel of progress to Gabriella.  Mrs. Carr, who had never been active, and was now over seventy, was visibly excited by the suddenness with which she had been whisked from the platform, and while they shot away from the station, she clutched her crape veil despairingly to the sides of her face, and fixed her blank and terrified stare on her son-in-law.  After a whispered conference with Jane, Gabriella discovered that her mother was less afraid of an accident than she was of fresh air.  “She’s afraid of neuralgia,” whispered Jane, “but the doctor says the air can’t possibly do her any harm.”

In Franklin Street the trees were in full leaf, and the charming vista through which Gabriella looked at the sunset, softened mercifully the impending symbols of the ironic Spirit of Progress.  It was modern; it was progressive; yet there was the ancient lassitude of spring in the faint sunshine; and the women passing under the vivid green of the elms and maples moved with a flowing walk which one did not see in Fifth Avenue.  On the porches, too, groups were assembled in chairs after the Southern fashion, while children, in white frocks and gay sashes, accompanied by negro nurses wheeling perambulators, made a spring pageant in the parks.  Though the gardens had either disappeared or dwindled to mere emerald patches of grass, a few climbing roses, of modern varieties, lent brightness and fragrance to the solid, if undistinguished, architecture of the houses.

“That’s the finest apartment house in the city!” exclaimed Charley, with enthusiasm.  “Looks pretty tall, doesn’t it?  But it’s nothing to the height of some of the buildings downtown.  As for changes—­well, I hope Jane will take you on Broad Street to-morrow, and then you’ll see what we’re doing.  Why, there’s not a shop left there now where you used to deal.  Brandywine’s—­you recollect old Brandywine & Plummer’s, don’t you?—­isn’t there any longer.  Got a new department store, with a restaurant and a basement in the very spot where it used to be.  Look sharp now, we’re coming to a hospital.  That belongs to Dr. Browning.  You don’t remember Dr. Browning.  After your day, I reckon.  He’s a young chap, but he’s got his hospital like all the rest, and every bed filled—­he told me so yesterday.  But they’ve all got their hospitals.  Darrow—­you recollect Darrow who used to be old Dr. Walker’s assistant—­well, he’s got his, too, just around the corner on the next street.  They say he cuts up more people than any man in the South except Spendlow—­“.