There was another thing that gave her a vague suspicion of being grown up, and that was cards.
The "quality" used visiting-cards; but it would have been considered underbred and pretentious to sow them around in the modern manner. They were kept for state occasions. Of course Dolly and Margaret had them; and Hanny thought Joseph B. Underhill, M. D., looked extremely elegant. Jim had some written ones in exquisite penmanship. He had not given up society because one girl had proved false and deceitful. He made a point of bowing distantly to Mrs. Williamson, and flushed even now at the thought of having been such a ninny!
Daisy Jasper's name was on her mother's cards. But you couldn't persuade Mrs. Underhill into any such nonsense. She declared if Joe brought her home any, she would put them in the fire. One day, however, he dropped a small white box into Hanny's lap, as she sat in his easy-chair, studying her lessons. It was too small for confectionery; it might be—she had coveted a pair of bracelets.
So she looked up with an inquiring smile.
"Open it, and see if they suit."
She was sure then it was bracelets.
There was white tissue-paper and something stiff. She tumbled the contents out in her lap. A few cards fell the plain side up. She turned one over. In very delicate script she saw—
"Miss Nan Underhill."
"Oh!" with a cry of delight. They called her Nan altogether at Stephen's, and the school-girls wrote her name in that manner. She often used it in writing notes. It looked so very attractive now.
"Oh, you lovely Joe!"