“That was formerly my name,” replied the lady, with dignified politeness.
She threw her arms round her neck, nothing doubting, and exclaimed: “O Hatty! dear Hatty! How glad I am to see you! I’ve been thinking of you a deal to-day.”
The old lady received the embrace passively, and, readjusting her tumbled cape, replied, “I think I’ve seen your face somewhere, ma’am, but I don’t remember where.”
“What! don’t you know me? Your old friend, Jenny White, who married Frank May?”
“O yes, I remember. But you’ve changed a good deal since I used to know you. Has your health been good since I saw you, Mrs. May?”
This response chilled her friend’s heart like an east wind upon spring flowers. In a confused way, she stammered out, “I’ve been very well, thank you; and I hope you have enjoyed the same blessing. But I must go and see to the children now. I thought to be sure you’d know me. Good by.”
“Good by, ma’am,” responded the old lady in gray.
The carriage was gone when Mrs. Harrington and her party entered the big wagon to return home. Mrs. May, having made a brief explanation of her proceedings, became unusually silent. It was a lovely afternoon, but she did not comment on the beauty of the landscape, as she had done in the morning. She was kind and pleasant, but her gayety had vanished. The thought revolved through her mind: “Could it be my shabby gown? Hatty always thought a deal of dress.” But the suspicion seemed to her mean, and she strove to drive it away.
“Meeting that old acquaintance seems to make you down-hearted,” remarked Mrs. Harrington; “and that’s something new for you.”
“I was disappointed that she didn’t know me,” replied Mrs. May; “but when I reflect, it seems very natural. I doubt whether I should have known her, if you hadn’t told me her name. I’m glad it didn’t happen in the morning; for it might have clouded my day a little. I’ve had a beautiful time.”