“I think it would be a very good idea to pack away those dishes altogether, and put them in a box up in the garret,” said Miss Holmes.  Then she noticed Maria’s face.  “They will come in handy for your wedding outfit, little girl,” she added, kindly and jocosely, but Maria did not laugh.

Every now and then Maria looked at the clock on the parlor shelf, that was also new.  The old sitting-room clock had disappeared; Maria did not know where, but she missed the face of it as if it had been the face of a friend.  Miss Holmes also glanced frequently at the new clock.  There arose a fragrant odor of warming potatoes and gravy from the kitchen.

“It is almost time for them,” said Miss Holmes.

She was very much dressed-up, Maria thought.  She wore a red silk gown with a good many frills about the shoulders.  She was very slight, and affected frills to conceal it.  Out of this mass of red frills arose her little, alert head and face, homely, but full of vivacity.  Maria thought her very nice.  She would have liked her better for a mother than Ida.  When Miss Zella Holmes smiled it seemed to come from within.

At last a carriage came rapidly up to their door, and Miss Holmes sprang to open it.  Maria remained in the dining-room.  Suddenly an uncanny fancy had seized her and terrified her.  Suppose her father should look different, like everything else?  Suppose it should be to her as if he had a new head?  She therefore remained in the dining-room, trembling.  She heard her father’s voice, loud and merry.  “Where is Maria?” Still, Maria did not stir.  Then her father came hurrying into the room, and behind him she who had been Ida Slome, radiant and triumphant, in her plum-colored array, with the same smile with which she had departed on her beautiful face.  Harry caught Maria in his arms, rubbed his cold face against her soft little one, and kissed her.

“How is father’s little girl?” he asked, with a break in his voice.

“Pretty well, thank you,” replied Maria.  She gave a helpless little cling to her father, then she stood away.

“Speak to your new mother, darling,” said Harry.

“How do You do?” said Maria, obediently, and Ida said, “You darling,” and then kissed her exactly as if she had been an uncommonly well-constructed doll, with a clock-work system which fitted her to take such a part with perfect accuracy.

Harry watched his wife and daughter rather anxiously.  He seized the first opportunity to ask Maria, aside, if she had been well, and if she had been happy and comfortable at Mrs. White’s.  Then he wound up with the rather wistful inquiry: 

“You are going to love your new mother, aren’t you, darling?  Don’t you think she is lovely?”

Ida had gone up-stairs with Miss Holmes, to remove her wraps.

“Yes, sir, I think She is lovely,” replied Maria.

Chapter X