"I think her great-grandmother has cut out all the rest of her relations," her father remarked, laughing.
"I don't see how she could be my great-grandmother," Frances said meditatively.
Mrs. Richards remembered the candlesticks next day, and they gave her an excuse for an early visit to Mr. Clark. She felt in love and charity with all men, and, finding the optician at leisure, she entered into conversation with him in her most gracious manner. His old-fashioned courtliness pleased her, and she recalled him as one of the proprietors of the large jewellery store of Mason and Clark, years ago.
Mr. Clark remembered her father, Judge Morrison, and all together she spent an exceedingly pleasant hour looking over his valuables and talking of old times. She purchased the candlesticks, and also the two pieces of Wedgwood which exactly matched some her grandfather had brought from England.
"You have shown me all you care to sell?" she asked, rising.
"I believe there is nothing else, madam, except the house. I should like very much to sell it," was Mr. Clark's reply.
When Zenobia ushered her into the sitting room upstairs some minutes later, Mrs. Richards was struck with its cosey beauty. Truly, there were ways of living—pleasant ways—of which she had not dreamed.
Frances was washing the sword fern while she recited her history lesson to her mother, who was sewing.
"I have come to take you home with me to lunch; I can't do without you," Mrs. Richards announced.
"Why don't you stay with us—auntie?" Frances spoke the new title hesitatingly.