“I am glad that you spoke of it, Julia,” said Mrs. Barlow; “you always are so thoughtful. I had meant before this to call on Mrs. Redmond the day before I went to New York to meet Agnes. There was no one at home but a little Irish maid, and I left my card. I was out when Mrs. Redmond returned my call, and thus we have never met. But I am sure that the mother of a bright girl like Amy must be an interesting woman. I have been meaning to give Amy an informal invitation to come to Rockley the day of the wedding. She will enjoy herself, I am sure, with the other young people, and it will please Brenda. Oh, Brenda!”—for the latter had just entered the room.
“I hope that you have told Amy about the wedding, so that she won’t be entirely taken by surprise. I am going to send her an informal invitation to come over on the day of the wedding. I shall write this evening.”
“To tell you the truth,” said Brenda, shamefacedly, “I have n’t written to her since I left Rockley. You see, there was so much going on, with the engagement, and the excursions with Ralph, and everything.”
“Well, well, Brenda, I should have expected something very different from you. At least, I had hoped that you had overcome this carelessness. Amy must think it very singular not to have had a word from you, especially if she has heard rumors of the wedding.”
“Oh, mamma, don’t look so cross! I ’ll go to see her the minute I get home, I really will.”
“Nevertheless I will write to her myself to-night. She
