Mrs. Leffingwell was silent.
“I thought not,” said Mrs. Hanbury. “Now Randolph was my own cousin, and I insist.”
Aunt Mary turned over the envelope, and there followed a few moments' silence, broken only by the distant clamour of tin horns and other musical instruments of the season.
“I sometimes think, Mary, that Honora is a little like Randolph, and-Mrs. Randolph. Of course, I did not know her.”
“Neither did I,” said Aunt Mary.
“Mary,” said Mrs. Hanbury, again, “I realize how you worked to make the child that velvet coat. Do you think you ought to dress her that way?”
“I don't see why she shouldn't be as well dressed as the children of my friends, Eleanor.”
Mrs. Hanbury laid her hand impulsively on Aunt Mary's.
“No child I know of dresses half as well,” said Mrs. Hanbury. “The trouble you take—”
“Is rewarded,” said Aunt Mary.