comes true, it will be worth more than that to me, for she promised me a
rich and adoring husband, beautiful children, and a long and happy
life!"

She was more than usually animated, her dark eyes glowing with
excitement, and Ela caught the infection, exclaiming:

"Hurry and eat your cream, and take me to the tent, Olive. I want to
hear my fortune, too."

Love and Dainty, listening to her careless words, thought that if the
gypsy told her truly, she would hear an unwelcome story of a heartless
girl who had thrown over a true lover for the sake of captivating a
richer one; but they held their peace, and presently the two girls went
off together, and the minister and his wife engaged Mrs. Ellsworth in
conversation, leaving the pair of lovers free to mingle with the gay
crowd of young and old strolling beneath the trees. They spoke little to
the casual acquaintances they met, preferring to enjoy each other's
society.

It was an ideal July night, warm and odorous with the sweet breath of
nature, and the moon shone so bright that the fantastic lanterns were
scarcely necessary, save to add to the festivity of the scene.

Love thought Dainty looked more lovely than he had ever seen her
to-night, in her soft white gown with a bunch of dewy white lilies at
her waist and a wreath of them around her white chip hat, making up such
a simple, lovely costume that Olive and Ela had been wild with envy,
despite their own shimmering silks, and gay hats loaded with artificial
flowers.

When Dainty had come to Ellsworth they had laughed at her simple gowns,
and more especially her last summer's hat--a fine white chip, simply
trimmed with a bow of white ribbon.

"She can not help looking shabby in that old hat, and her beauty will
not count for much. Fine feathers make fine birds," quoted Olive,
complacently.

She forgot Dainty's exquisite taste, and that the gardens of Ellsworth
were blushing with the rarest flowers, by whose aid the young girl each
day transformed the old hat into a thing of beauty.

With the aid of a few long pins, Dainty would, with a few deft touches,
adorn the old white chip, now with a garland of roses, now with lilies
or geraniums, now with a trailing vine of starry-white jasmine, and even
one day, when she wore a very simple blue gingham, chose heavenly blue
larkspurs, under whose blue mist her sweet eyes looked more deeply
violet than ever, and her skin just like the satiny leaf of a rose.

Olive an