e Countess was equally pleased with
Mary's present, although she expressed herself more moderately. "What a
charming basket!" she said, "and its flowers, how beautiful! They are
yet wet with dew. The basket of flowers does credit to the taste of
Mary but more to the kindness of her heart." Asking Mary to remain in
the room, she made a sign to Amelia to follow her into another
apartment.

"Amelia," said the Countess, "Mary must not be permitted to go away
without some suitable return. What have you to give her?"

Amelia paused for a moment's reflection. "I think," she replied, "one
of my dresses would be a most acceptable gift. For instance, if you
will permit me, my dear mother, that one with the red and white flowers
on the deep green ground. It is almost new; I have worn it but once. It
is a little too short for me, but it will almost fit Mary, and she can
arrange it herself. She is so handy with her needle. If, therefore, you
do not think the present too valuable----"

The Countess interrupted her. "Too valuable! certainly not. When you
wish to give anything it ought to be something good and serviceable.
The green robe with the flowers will be very appropriate for Mary."

"Go now, my dear children," said the Countess, when they returned to
the room where Mary was, "take good care of the flowers, that they may
not fade before dinner. I want the guests to admire the basket also,
which will be the most beautiful ornament on our table."

Amelia ran to her room with Mary, and told Juliette, her maid, to bring
the dress with the white and red flowers.

"Do you wish to wear that dress to-day, miss?" said her maid.

"No," said Amelia, "I intend to make a present of it to Mary."

"Give that dress away!" replied Juliette hastily. "Does the Countess
know?"

"You forget yourself, I think, Juliette," said Amelia with dignity.
"Bring me the dress, and give yourself no trouble about the rest."

Juliette turned away hastily, her face burning with anger, and her
heart full of spite. Pulling the door of the wardrobe open, she took
from it the young Countess's dress. "Oh, I could tear it to pieces,"
she said passionately. "This sly Mary has already wormed her way into
the affections of my young mistress, and now she steals from me this
dress which ought to have been mine when the Countess had done with it.
I could tear the eyes out of this little flower-girl; but some day I
will be revenged." For the time being, however, she