“Mother, I must see those packages, please! I’ll tell you the whole story as soon as I’ve got that fixed up, but I must understand what has happened.”
“You lie down, and I’ll bring them,” commanded her mother gently, and went away to get the boxes.
Bessie stared at them gravely.
“I’ll have to open them, I guess,” she said at length. “There ought to be some card inside that will perhaps give the address.”
“He said there was a card inside,” said the mother as she began to untie the knots carefully.
They turned the soft wrappings of tissue back and discovered the lovely gowns inside, sumptuous in their texture, exquisite in their simplicity.
“Oh, Bessie, if your father had lived you could have had things like that!” wailed the mother heart, as she caught the first glimpse of shimmering silk and deep velvet.
“I’m just as happy without them, mother,” said Bessie serenely, slipping the card from the little white envelope.
There was nothing written on the card beside his engraved name. It told her nothing. She would have to search out Madame Grevet and find the true owner.
“I think she lives somewhere in the city. I’m almost sure some one pointed out her house to me one day. Let’s have a try at the telephone book.”