asking questions.

"I know, because I talked to her the other day," he replied.

"Maurice, really?" cried Katherine. "I don't believe it"

"You needn't if you don't want to," was her brother's lofty answer.

On the appointed evening the guest of honor was the last to arrive, and
the others were in such a state of expectancy they could not settle down
to an examination of Miss Betty's puzzle drawer with which she usually
entertained her young guests until supper was announced. Miss Betty, who
adored puzzles and problems of all kinds, was continually adding to her
collection, and this evening there was a brand new one, brought from the
city only the day before; but even Belle, who was especially good at
puzzles, and besides affected not to care about Rosalind Whittredge, could
not keep her eyes from the window.

The application of French chalk had been successful, and she wore her blue
and white silk; Katherine, in her blue muslin, with ribbons to match on
her smooth braids, wished her mother had been more impressed with the
importance of the occasion. Charlotte was complacent in her white dress
with a large ribbon bow on top of her head, in a new fashion just received
from her cousin in Baltimore.

"That's the way Rosalind wears hers," whispered Katherine.

The boys fingered the puzzles and talked about the ball game to be played
to-morrow, but they shared the feeling of anticipation. Their hostess
bustled back and forth.

"Children," she said, pausing in the door, "I want you to be as nice as
possible to Rosalind. Remember she is a stranger, and we wish her to have
a pleasant impression of Friendship."

"Here she is!" announced Belle, and the rest crowded around the window.

"There's Miss Genevieve," whispered Charlotte; "girls, she is coming in!"

The Whittredge carriage had stopped before the gate and Miss Genevieve, a
marvel of grace in soft chiffons that rippled and curled about her slender
height and emphasized the fairness of her skin, was actually escorting her
niece to the door.

"Isn't she lovely?" sighed Charlotte, in an ecstasy.

"Not so sweet as Miss Celia," said loyal Belle.

Miss Betty met them on the porch, while her guests in the parlor craned
their necks to catch a glimpse, through the open door, of the new
arrivals. The languid sweetness of Miss Genevieve's tone floated in above
Miss Betty's crisper utterance.

"Mamma is just as usual, thank you. Yes, it was very kind of you to ask
her