and most imposing young women she had ever gazed upon. The very way Letitia rustled when she moved, and exhaled a faint perfume with every movement, seemed to breathe an atmosphere of fashion and elegance. She had never seen her before, and had no idea who she was. Letitia soon put an end to this condition of ignorance.
"My name is Mason," she said judicially—"Letitia Mason. I am the sister of Mrs. Mortimer Gault."
At this announcement an instantaneous change took place in Viola. For a second she looked alarmed, then her face stiffened into lines of pride and anger. The eyes that had been so full of a naïve admiration were charged, as by magic, with a look of cold antagonism. Letitia felt her own breath quicken as she realized how much the name of Gault must mean to this girl.
Viola attempted no answer to the introduction, and Miss Mason hastily went on:
"My sister heard that you made jam—very good jam. We don't like what we get in the stores, so we thought we would try yours."
Viola had now found her voice,—a very low and cold one,—and answered:
"You can get it at the Woman's Exchange. I sell it there all the time."
"Yes, I know that," said Letitia; "but we
