"I have come for you to go and make a call," he said. "Let me take your books."
She glanced up the street.
"Oh, this isn't in style," he began laughingly. "I have neither coach nor four."
"Then we will have a nice walk. Where? Down at the Battery?"
She had such a sweet, eager face, and she was so easily pleased.
"We will go over to Broadway, first," he replied. "Then—well, wherever you like."
So they chatted as they walked along, across City Hall Square, where the fountain was still playing on sunny days.
The Astor House was yet in its glory. She wondered a little, as they walked up the stone steps, through the hall, and then up the thickly padded stairs, and into the spacious parlour.
A lady, dressed in black, was standing by the window, and turned smilingly. Hanny was bewildered by a familiar likeness. Then a young girl sprang up from the sofa; and Hanny caught a glint of golden curls, as she was clasped in the outstretched arms.
"Oh, Hanny!"