Floyd Grandon's Honor

by Amanda M. Douglas

"This used to be mamma's," she says, with great dignity. "Denise made it when she lived with her and used to help her work. There is another one, trimmed with red, and I am going to have that also."

Violet smiles and holds out her hand; Cecil takes that and slips on her father's knee, and the love-making is interrupted. But there is a strange stir and tumult in the young wife's soul and a shyness comes over her; she feels her husband's eyes upon her, and they seem to go through every pulse. What is it that so stops her breath, that sends a sudden heat to her face and then a vague shiver that is not coldness or terror?

Then he wonders when the professor, who has gone on a brief lecturing experience, will be back; they are counting on him for the party, and will be extremely disappointed if he should not reach Grandon Park in time.

"And he will be surprised to find that some one else has come in and taken possession," says Violet.

"He is so nice!" remarks Cecil, gravely. "I like him so much better than I do Uncle Eugene. What makes him my uncle?" with a puzzled frown on the bright face and a resentful inflection in her voice.

"Fate," answers her father, which proves a still more difficult enigma to her and keeps her silent many moments.

The lunch is up-stairs, for Violet is not allowed to leave the room, though all bruises and strains are well and the ankle is gaining every day. The father, mother, and child get on without any trouble, though Cecil is rather imperious at times. Denise will not have any one to help her, and she is in a little heaven of delight as she watches the two. Floyd Grandon loves his wife, as is meet and right, and she is learning to love him in a modest, careful way, as a young wife should. Such a bride as Laura would shock Denise.

Floyd absents himself from the great house, and sends Eugene, who is nothing loth, to wait upon the ladies and perform their behests. Laura does not care so much, and Mrs. Grandon is in her element, but madame feels that as the child was her bête noire in the summer, so is the wife now,—a something that keeps him preoccupied. She is very anxious to see the husband and wife together, but every hour seems so filled, and she cannot ask Floyd to take her. "After the party," says Laura, "there will be plenty of time. She is nothing to see, but, of course, we will pay her the compliment."

This evening reception is really a great thing to Laura, who feels that it is particularly for her glory, as the dinner was an honor to her mother. It is not cold weather yet, and the lawn is to be hung with colored lanterns, the rooms are to put on all their bravery; she wants to say to the world, her little world, "This is the house Arthur Delancy took me from, even if I had no great fortune. I can vie with the rest of you."

Gertrude comes up to the cottage in the morning for a little quiet and rest. She is the only one who has paid Violet the compliment of a call. "And I don't at all care for the fuss and crowd," she says. "I shall be so glad when it is over and one isn't routed from room to room. Oh, how lovely and cosey you are here!"