Mrs. Dodd noticed also a certain wildness and almost violence, with which
she threw herself into her occupations, and a worn look about the eyes
that told of a hidden conflict. On the whole Mrs. Dodd was hopeful; for
she had never imagined the cure would be speedy or easy. To see her child
on the right road was much. Only the great healer Time could "medicine
her to that sweet peace which once she owned;" and even Time cannot give
her back her childhood, thought the mother, with a sigh.

One day came an invitation to an evening party at a house where they
always wound up with dancing. Mrs. Dodd was for declining as usual for
since that night Julia had shunned parties. "Give me the sorrows of the
poor and afflicted," was her cry; "the gaiety of the hollow world jars me
more than I can bear." But now she caught with a sort of eagerness at
this invitation. "Accept. They shall not say I am wearing the willow."

"My brave girl," said Mrs. Dodd joyfully, "I would not press it; but you
are right; we owe it to ourselves to outface scandal. Still, let there be
no precipitation; we must not undertake beyond our strength."

"Try me to-night," said Julia; "you don't know what I can do. I dare say
_he_ is not pining for _me._"

She was the life and soul of the party, and, indeed, so feverishly
brilliant, that Mrs. Dodd said softly to her, "Gently, love; moderate
your spirits, or they will deceive our friends as little as they do me."

Meantime it cost Alfred Hardie a severe struggle to keep altogether aloof
from Julia. In fact, it was a state of daily self-denial, to which he
would never have committed himself, but that he was quite sure he could
gradually win his father over. At his age we are apt to count without our