Arrival at Woodlawn

It was a warm September night at Woodlawn. The windows were open,
and through the richly-wrought curtains the balmy air of evening was
stealing, mingling its delicious perfume of flowers without with the
odor of those which drooped from the many costly vases which adorned
the handsome parlors. Lamps were burning, casting a mellow light
over the gorgeous furniture, while in robes of snowy white the
mistress of the mansion flitted from room to room, a little nervous,
a little fidgety, and, without meaning to be so, a little cross. For
more than two hours she had waited for her husband, delaying the
supper, which the cook, quite as anxious as herself, pronounced
spoiled by the delay.

According to promise the party from Maple Grove had arrived, with the
exception of John Jr., who had generously remained with his
grandmother, she having been purposely omitted in the invitation.
From the first, Mrs. Graham had decided that Mrs. Nichols should
never live at Woodlawn, and she thought it proper to have it
understood at once. Accordingly, as she was conducting Mrs.
Livingstone and Carrie to 'Lena's room, she casually remarked, "I've
made no provision for Mrs. Nichols, except as an occasional visitor,
for of course she will remain with her son. She is undoubtedly much
attached to your family, and will be happier there!"

"_This_ 'Lena's!" interrupted Carrie, ere her mother had time to
reply. "It's the very best chamber in the house--Brussels carpets,
marble and rosewood furniture, damask curtains. Why, she'll hardly
know how to act," she continued, half unconsciously, as she gazed
around the elegant apartment, which, with one of her unaccountable
freaks, Mrs. Graham had fitted up with the utmost taste.