The traces of grief and strain were still in Harriet's face, and she asked the question with solicitude.
Miss Barry seated herself by the dainty workstand, and seizing the little stockings with eagerness shook her head.
"I find my best way is not to think, Harriet," she said emphatically. "Linda acts like a sleep-walker most of the time, but this morning she got to looking over some things in her bureau drawer, and she's been crying her eyes out."
Harriet dashed away a quick tear as she sat opposite her aunt, replacing a button on a little white blouse.
"I do want to get her away from here, and I broached the subject this morning, but she took fright at once." Miss Belinda's busy needle ran in and out of the spot where a small active toe had peeped through.
"I wish," replied Harriet, "that there were something in the world she _must_ do. There's no such blessing at a time like this as not to be able to brood. A husband and baby have rights that can't be put aside. I do wish Linda cared for some one of the men who admire her. I don't believe there's one who would let the changes in her fortune weigh with him at all. I hope, Aunt Belinda, it doesn't hurt your feelings to see me wearing this colored gown." The speaker lifted her eyes to her aunt's somber black. "Father never believed in mourning, but he was a prominent man, and I want to wear the badge of respect before people who would expect it. I'll wear black in the street, but Henry and little Harry would feel the gloom of it in the house, and though Henry hasn't said anything about it, I have decided not to wear mourning at home."
"You've got a lot of sense," was her aunt's response. "I believe in that."
"We can't mourn any less," and Harriet dashed away another tear. "No girls ever had a better father than ours."
Miss Belinda lifted her eyes from her work.
"Mr. King called this morning, and brought more flowers for Linda. If flowers would heal hearts Linda would never shed another tear, but she can't seem to bear them. She won't let one blossom be in the room."
"I suppose they look too cheerful," said Harriet. "How is poor Bertram?"
"Thin as a rail. Looks as if he had the weight of the nation on him, and I suppose he has. I guess from what I hear these days are terribly hard on him."