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Graciella, moved by curiosity, had come down from her throne to a seat beside Ben upon the porch. She had never had any faith in the mythical gold of old Ralph Dudley. The people of an earlier generation her Aunt Laura perhaps may once have believed in it, but they had long since ceased to do more than smile pityingly and shake their heads at the mention of old Malcolm's delusion.
Should anything happen to me, write to the Secretary of State at Richmond for instructions what to do with the money. In great haste, Your affectionate uncle, RALPH DUDLEY" Graciella was momentarily impressed by the letter; of its reality there could be no doubt it was there in black and white, or rather brown and yellow. "It sounds like a letter in a novel," she said, thoughtfully.
The suggestion of a house warming had come originally from Mrs. Treadwell; but Graciella had promptly made it her own and conveyed it to the colonel. "A bright idea," he replied. "By all means let it be an old-time party say such a party as my father would have given, or my grandfather. And shall we invite the old people?"
"They couldn't be much worse," returned Graciella, discontentedly. "Oh, they'll be better they're bound to be! They'll just have to be. And you'll wait for me, won't you, Graciella?" "Oh, I suppose I'll have to. You're around here so much that every one else is scared away, and there isn't much choice at the best; all the young men worth having are gone away already.
But you know my ultimatum I must get to New York. If you are ready before any one else speaks, you may take me there." "You're hard on a poor devil, Graciella. I don't believe you care a bit for me, or you wouldn't talk like that. Don't you suppose I have any feelings, even if I ain't much account? Ain't I worth as much as a trip up North?"
"We have enough left for supper, mother," interposed Miss Laura quickly, "to which we are going to ask Colonel French to stay." "I suppose that in New York every one has dinner at six, and supper after the theatre or the concert?" said Graciella, inquiringly.
"It's still there, but has gone out of fashion." "Oh, excuse me! I'm not posted on these fashionable things." Ben relapsed into gloom. The model remained untouched. He could not give Graciella a house; he would not have a house until his uncle died.
"Put out the lamps, Graciella there's not much oil and when you go to bed hang up your gown carefully, for it takes me nearly half an hour to iron it." "And you are right good to do it! Good night, dear Aunt Laura! Good night, grandma!" Mr. French had left the hotel at noon that day as free as air, and he slept well that night, with no sense of the forces that were to constrain his life.
I am not bound, at present, by any business ties am foot-loose, as we used to say when I was young. I shall follow my inclinations." "Then I hope, sir, that you'll feel inclined to pay us a long visit and that I shall see you many times." As Ben Dudley, after this courteous wish, stepped down from the piazza, Graciella rose and walked with him along the garden path.
Graciella had never seemed so beautiful as to-day, as she sat, dressed in the cool white gown which Miss Laura's slender fingers had done up, and with her hair dressed after the daintiest and latest fashion chronicled in the Ladies' Fireside Journal. No wonder, he thought, that a jaded old man of the world like Colonel French should delight in her fresh young beauty!
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