"Pray put some animation into your face, or Mrs. Grandon will certainly think we have been quarreling," Wilford whispered, as he lifted his wife from the carriage, and with a great effort Katy tried to be gay and natural.
But all the while was she fighting back her tears and wishing she were away. Even Marian's room, looking into the dingy court, was preferable to that place, and she was glad when the long day came to an end, and she with a fearful headache was riding back to the city.
The next morning was dark and rainy; but in spite of the weather Katy found her way to Marian's room, this time taking the ---- avenue cars, which left her independent as regarded the length of her stay. About Marian there was something more congenial than about her city friends, and day after day found her there, watching while Marian fashioned into shape the beautiful little garments, the sight of which had over Katy a strangely quieting influence, sobering her down and maturing her more than all the years of her life had done. Those were happy hours spent with Marian Hazelton, the happiest of the entire day, and Katy felt it keenly when Wilford at last interfered, telling her she was growing quite too familiar with that sewing woman, and her calls had best be discontinued, except, indeed, such as were necessary to the work in progress.
There was a grieved look on Katy's face, but she uttered no word of remonstrance; while her husband went on to say, that of course he did not wish to be unreasonable, nor interfere between her and her acquaintances as a general thing, but when the acquaintance chosen was a sewing woman, whose antecedents no one knew, and whose society could not be improving, the case was different.
After this there were no more mornings spent in Marian's room, no more talks of Silverton and Morris Grant; talks which did Katy a world of good, and kept her heart open to better influences, which might otherwise have been wholly choked and destroyed by the life she saw around her. With one great gush of tears, when there was no one to see her, Katy gave Marian up, writing her a note, in which were sundry directions for the work, which would go on even after she had left for the Mountain House, as she intended doing the last of June. And Marian, reading this note, guessed at more than Katy meant she should, and with a bitter sigh laid it in her basket, and then resumed the work, which seemed doubly monotonous now that there was no more listening for the little feet tripping up the stairs, or for the bird-like voice which had brought so much of music and sunshine to her lonely room.