dly and gracious in her manner that
evening, and her very voice had less than its accustomed sharpness; but
her natural disposition broke out a little, some minutes later, while
she was talking with Annie Foster. Said she,--

"I've wanted so much to get acquainted with you."

"With me?"

"Yes: I've seen you in church, and I've heard you talked about, and I
wanted to find out for myself."

"Find out what?" asked Annie a little soberly.

"Why, you see, I don't believe it's possible for any girl to be as sweet
as you look. I couldn't, I know. I've been trying these two days, and
I'm nearly worn out."

Annie's eyes opened wide with surprise; and she laughed merrily, as she
answered,--

"What can you mean! I'm glad enough if my face doesn't tell tales of
me."

"But mine does," said Jenny. "And then I'm so sure to tell all the rest
with my tongue. I do wish I knew what were your faults."

"My faults? What for?"

"I don't know. Seems to me, if I could think of your faults instead of
mine, it wouldn't be so hard to look sweet."

Annie could but see that there was more earnestness than fun in the
queer talk of her new acquaintance.

The truth was, that Jenny had been having almost as hard a struggle with
her tongue as Dick Lee with his, though not for the same reason. Before
many minutes she had frankly told Annie all about it, and she could not
have done that if she had not somehow felt that Annie's "sweetness" was
genuine.

The two girls were sure friends after that, much to the surprise of Mr.
Dabney Kinzer. He, indeed, had been too much occupied in caring for all
his guests, to pay especial attention to any one of them.

His mother had looked after him again and again, with eyes brimful of
pride and of commendation of the way in which he was acquitting himself
as "host."

Mrs. Foster herself remarked to her husband, who had now arrived,--

"Do you see that? Who would have expected as much from a raw, green
country boy?"

"But, my dear, don't you see? The secret of it is, that he's not
thinking of himself at all he's only anxious that his friends should
have a good time."

"That's it; but then, that, too, is a very rare thing in a boy of his
age."

"Dabney," exclaimed the lawyer in a louder tone of voice.

"Good-evening, Mr. Foster. I'm glad you've found room. The house isn't
half large enough."

"It'll do. I understand your ponies ran away with you to-day."

"They did come home in a hurry, that