"Oh, the money is of no account, if you are only happy," Mrs. Goddard lightly remarked. "And now," she went on eagerly, "I want you to dress yourself just as nicely as you can, and be ready, when the bell rings, to come down to lunch, as it becomes—my sister. Will you, dear?" she concluded, coaxingly. "Do, Edith, be reasonable; let us bury the hatchet, and all be on good terms."
"I—I do not think I can quite make up my mind to go down to lunch," Edith faltered, with averted face.
Madam frowned; she had begun to think her victory was won, and the disappointment nettled her. But she controlled herself and remarked pleasantly:
"Well, then, I will send up your lunch, if you will promise to come down and dine with us, will you?"
Edith hesitated a moment; then, drawing a long breath, she remarked, as if with bashful hesitancy:
"I think, perhaps—I will go down later—by and by."
"Now you are beginning to be sensible, dear," said madam, flashing a covert look of exultation at her, "and Emil will be so happy. Put on this silver-gray silk—it is so lovely, trimmed with white lace—and the pearls; you will be charming in the costume. I am sorry I have to go directly after lunch," she continued, regretfully, "but I have a call to make, and shall not be back for a couple of hours; but Emil will be here; so if you can find it in your heart to be a little kind to him, just put on the gray silk—or anything else you may prefer—and go down to him. May I tell him that you will?"
"I will not promise—at least until after you return," murmured Edith, in a low voice.
Madam could have laughed in triumph, for she believed the victory was hers.
"Well, perhaps you would feel a trifle shy about it," she said, good-naturedly, "it would be pleasanter and easier for you, no doubt, if I were here, so I will come for you when I get back. Good-by, till then."