This he proposed to his client; assuring her of his mother's entire willingness to receive her, and urging so many reasons why she should go there, instead of "up to Katy's," where they were in such confusion that Aunt Betsy was at last persuaded, and was soon riding uptown in a Twenty-third Street stage, with Mark Ray her _vis-à-vis_ and Mattie at her right. Why Mattie was there Mark could not conjecture; and perhaps she did not know herself, unless it were that, disappointed in her call on Mrs. Cameron, she vaguely hoped for some redress by calling on Mrs. Banker. How then was she chagrined, when, as the stage left them at a handsome brownstone front, near Fifth Avenue Hotel, Mark said to her, as if she were not of course expected to go in, "Please tell your mother that Miss Barlow is stopping with Mrs. Banker to-day. Has she baggage at your house?—If so, we will send around for it at once. Your number, please?"
His manner was so offhand and yet so polite that Mattie could neither resist him, nor yet be angry, though there was a sad feeling of disappointment at her heart as she gave the required number, and then shook Aunt Betsy's hand, whispering in a choked voice:
"You'll come to us again before you go home?"
"Of course I shall," Aunt Betsy answered, feeling that something was wrong, and wondering if she herself were in fault.
With a good-by to Mark, whose bow atoned for a great deal, Mattie walked slowly away, leaving Mark greatly relieved. Aunt Betsy was as much as he cared to have on his hands at once, and as he led her up the steps, he began to wonder more and more what his mother would say to his bringing that stranger into her house, unbidden and unsought.
"I'll tell her just the truth," was his rapid decision, and assuming a manner which warned the servant who answered his ring neither to be curious nor impertinent, he conducted his charge into the parlor, and bringing her a chair before the grate, went in quest of his mother, who he found was out.
"Kindle a fire then in the front guest chamber," he said, "and see that it is made comfortable as soon as possible."
The servant bowed in acquiescence, wondering who had come, and feeling not a little surprised at the description given by John of the woman he had let into the house, and who now in the parlor was looking around her in astonishment and delight, thinking she had found New York at last, and condemning herself for the feeling of homesickness with which she remembered the Bowery, contrasting her "cluttered quarters" there with the elegance around her. "Was Katy's house as fine as this?" she asked herself, feeling intuitively that such as she might be out of place in it, just as she began to fear she was out of her place here, bemoaning the fact that she had forgotten her capbox, with its contents, and so could not remove her bonnet, as she had nothing with which to cover her gray head.
"What shall I do?" she was asking herself, when Mark appeared, explaining that his mother was absent, but would be at home in a short time.
"Your room will soon be ready," he continued, "and meantime you might lay aside your wrappings here if you find them too warm."