“Then you will not care for company?”

“Not particularly.  Why?”

Vi told of her invitation.

“Go, by all means,” said Molly.  “You know Virgy has a friend with her, a Miss Reed.  I want you to see her and tell me what she’s like.”

“I fear you’ll have to see her yourself to find that out; I’m no portrait painter,” Violet said with a smile as she ran lightly away to order the carriage and see to her own toilet and Rosie’s.

They were simple enough; white dresses with blue sash and ribbons for Vi, ditto of pink for Rosie.

Miss Reed, dressed in a stiff silk and loaded with showy jewelry, sat in the drawing-room at Roselands in a bay-window overlooking the avenue.  She was gazing eagerly toward its entrance, as though expecting some one.

“Yes, I’ve heard of the Travillas,” she said in answer to a remark from Virginia Conly who stood by her side almost as showily attired as herself, “I’ve been told she was a great heiress.”

“She was; and he was rich too; though I believe he lost a good deal during the war.”

“They live splendidly, I suppose?”

“They’ve everything money can buy, but are nearly breaking their hearts just now, over one of their little girls who seems to have some incurable disease.”

“Is that so?  Well, they ought to have some trouble as well as other folks.  I’m sorry though; for I’d set my heart on being invited there and seeing how they live.”

“Oh they’re all gone away except Vi and Rosie and the boys.  But may be Vi will ask us there to dinner or tea.  Ah here they come!”

“What splendid match horses!  What an elegant carriage!” exclaimed Miss Reed, as a beautiful barouche, drawn by a pair of fine bays, came bowling up the avenue.

“Yes, they’ve come, it’s the Ion carriage.”

“But that’s a young lady Pomp’s handing out of it!” exclaimed Miss Reed the next moment, “and I thought you said it was only two children you expected.”

“Yes, Vi’s only thirteen,” answered Virginia running to the door to meet her.  “Vi, my dear, how good in you to come.  How sweet you look!” kissing her.  “Rosie too,” bestowing a caress upon her also, “pink’s so becoming to you, little pet, and blue equally so to Vi.  This is my friend Miss Reed, Vi, I’ve been telling her about you.”

Violet gave her hand, then drew back blushing and slightly disconcerted by the almost rude stare of the black eyes that seemed to be taking an inventory of her personal appearance and attire.

“Where is Isa?” she asked.

“Here, and very glad to see you, Vi,” answered a silvery voice, and a tall, queenly looking girl of twenty, in rustling black silk and with roses in her hair and at her throat, took Violet’s hands in hers and kissed her on both cheeks, then letting her go, saluted the little one in like manner.

“Why don’t you do that to me? guess I like kisses as well as other folks, ha! ha!” cried a shrill voice, and a little withered up, faded woman with a large wax doll in her arms, came skipping into the room.