Gertrude wondered much whom Mrs. Stanton could mean, but her wonder soon ceased, for there was a stir at the door.  The crowd around it fell back as Frank Cameron walked proudly into the room, bearing upon his arm Fanny Middleton.  Her fame had preceded her, for many of those present had learned that a Kentucky belle and heiress was stopping at the Astor, and would be present at the party.  As she advanced into the room, Gertrude felt, rather than heard the murmur of admiration which ran round the room, and her quick ear caught the words, “Yes, that’s she; that’s the heiress; that’s Miss Middleton from Frankfort.”

Gladly would Gertrude have escaped her brother’s eye, which instantly sought her out; but she felt unable to move, and stood watching the animated face and graceful manners of Fanny, who, in being presented to Mrs. Fulton and Stanton, passed near her.  Every article of Fanny’s dress was noted, and an estimate made as to its probable cost.  “She must be wealthy,” thought she, “or she could not dress so expensively.”  Suddenly one of Gertrude’s acquaintances touched her elbow, and said, “Come, Miss Gertrude, do gratify our curiosity and tell us about this Kentucky belle.  Of course you know her, as she is attended by your brother.”

Deeply mortified Gertrude was obliged to confess that she had no acquaintance with her.  “That’s strange,” said the lady.  “We all supposed she stopped at your father’s with your cousin.”

A new idea entered Gertrude’s mind, and instead of replying to this last remark, she said, “I shall know her well, though, for Frank has proposed to her.”

“Did she accept him?” asked the lady eagerly.

“Of course,” was Gertrude’s haughty answer.  “Do you think he would offer himself unless sure of success?”

Ten minutes more and dozens of persons were gossiping about the engagement between Frank Cameron and the beautiful Kentuckian.  Scores of questions were poured in upon Gertrude relative to her future sister-in-law, but none of them could she answer.  Vexed at her own ignorance, she ran upstairs to her mother, whom she told to “come down immediately and see what fools they had made of themselves.”

“Why, what is the matter, child?” said Mrs. Cameron, much alarmed at Gertrude’s excited looks and manners.

“All the city is ready to fall down and worship this Fanny Middleton, whom we have treated with such neglect,” said Gertrude, and then she added what was of more consequence than all the rest, “Why, mother, she’s the most elegantly dressed lady in the room!”

In a moment Mrs. Cameron was descending the broad staircase.  There was the sound of the piano and someone singing.  Gertrude pressed forward until she caught sight of the singer, then pulling her mother’s sleeve, she whispered, “This way, mother; that is Miss Middleton playing.”