Mrs. Banker was pleased with Helen, while she felt a kind of pity for the young girl thrown so suddenly among strangers, without even her sister to aid and assist her.
"Have you been out at all?" she asked, and upon Helen's replying that she had not, she answered: "That is not right. Accustomed to the fresh country air, you will suffer from too close confinement. Suppose you ride with me. My carriage is at the door, and I have a few hours' leisure. Tell your sister I insist," she continued, as Helen hesitated between inclination and what she fancied was her duty.
To see New York with Mrs. Banker was a treat indeed, and Helen's heart bounded high as she ran up to Katy's room with the request.
"Yes, by all means," Katy said. "It is so kind in Mrs. Banker, and so like her, too. I meant that Wilford should have driven with you to-day, and spoke to him about it, but Mrs. Banker will do better. Tell her I thank her so much for her thoughtfulness," and with a kiss Katy sent Helen away, while Mrs. Cameron, after twisting her rings nervously for a moment, said to Katy: "Perhaps your sister would do well to wear your furs. Hers are small and common fitch."
"Yes, certainly. Take them to her," Katy answered, knowing intuitively the feeling which had prompted this suggestion from her mother-in-law, who hastened to Helen's room with the rich sable she was to wear in place of the old fitch.
Helen appreciated the difference at once between her furs and Katy's, and felt a pang of mortification as she saw how old and poor and dowdy hers were beside the others. But they were her own; the best she could afford. She would not begin by borrowing, and so she declined the offer, and greatly to Mrs. Cameron's horror went down to Mrs. Banker clad in the despised furs, which Mrs. Cameron would on no account have had beside her on Broadway in an open carriage. Mrs. Banker noticed them, too, but the eager, happy face, which grew each moment brighter as they drove down the street, more than made amends; and in watching that and pointing out the places which they passed, Mrs. Banker forgot the furs and the coarse straw hat whose strings of black had undeniably been dyed. Never in her life had Helen enjoyed a ride as she did that pleasant winter day, when her kind friend took her wherever she wished to go, showing her Broadway in its glory from Union Square to Wall Street, where they encountered Mark in a bustling crowd. He saw them, too, and beckoned to them, while Helen's face grew red as, lifting his hat to her, he came up to the carriage, and at his mother's suggestion took a seat just opposite, asking where they had been and jocosely laughing at his mother's taste in selecting such localities as the Bowery, the Tombs and Barnum's Museum, when there were so many finer places to be seen.