Then she put a few sheets of the paper in a dinner
plate and sprinkled the powder over them and set the plate where
the powder could perfume the paper but not the house. Miss Anna
was averse to all odor-bearing things natural or artificial. The
perfect triumph of her nose was to perceive absolutely nothing.
The only trial to her in cooking was the fact that so often she
could not make things taste good without making them smell good.
In the course of time, bending over a sheet of this note paper,
with an expression of high nasal disapproval. Miss Anna had
written the following note:
"A. Hardage, Esq., presents the compliments of the season to Miss
Crane and begs the pleasure of her company to the ball. The
aforesaid Hardage, on account of long intimacy with the specified
Crane, hopes that she (Crane) will not object to riding alone at
night in a one-horse rockaway with no side curtains. Crane to be
hugged on the way if Hardage so desires--and Hardage certainly will
desire. Hardage and Crane to dance at the ball together while
their strength lasts."
Having posted this letter, Miss Anna went off to her orphan and
foundling asylum where she was virgin mother to the motherless,
drawing the mantle of her spotless life around little waifs
straying into the world from hidden paths of shame.
X
It was past one o'clock on the night of the ball.
When dew and twilight had fallen on the green labyrinths of
Marguerite's yard, the faintest, slenderest moon might have been
seen bending over toward the spot out of drapery of violet cloud.
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