s indeed shocked
to see what she had done, though kind-hearted Julia made light of the
blow, and declared it did not pain her at all.

'I am sure you must all hate me--I think everybody hates me,' cried
impetuous Mabel; 'but I didn't mean to hurt you, Julia, and I am very,
very sorry for what I have done.'

'Oh, I know you are,' replied her sister; 'don't think anything more
about it. And don't cry any more, dear; I can't bear to see you cry;'
and she added in a whisper, 'It makes mamma ill.'

This little episode had done more to convince Mrs. Ellis of the wisdom
of her husband's plan, with regard to his daughter Mabel, than all that
he had said previously on the subject; and she made up her mind to offer
no opposition to anything he might propose. Coming to this conclusion,
she dismissed Mabel and Julia, under the plea that it was absolutely
necessary that she should remain quiet for a time.

CHAPTER IX.

THE JUVENILE PARTY.

The morning after the visit to the Gardens was temptingly fine; and at
breakfast-time, Harry Maitland proposed a trip to the Kew Gardens,
where, he said, there would be no fear of monkey tricks, and they would
have the satisfaction of seeing specimens of the famous blue gum tree.

'But you have forgotten, I think,' said his cousin Dora, 'that we are
expecting two of your school-fellows and their two sisters; Mabel and
Julia Ellis, and the vicar's son and daughter, Robert and Edith
Newland.'

'Oh yes, I had quite forgotten the party,' replied Harry; 'I beg
everybody's pardon for being so careless. I will do as you suggest,
aunt, and help Dora and Annie to prepare for the guests.'

'Thank you, my dear,' said Mrs. Maitland; 'I shall be glad to avail
myself of your services, especially as I hear your cousins wish to have
tea on the lawn, where there will be plenty of room for you to display
your taste. I am only sorry that our good neighbour Miss Livesay, and
her niece Clara, have not yet come home; so that we shall not have the
pleasure of their company.'

'O, we are all very sorry on that account,' said Dora, 'for there is no
one like Aunt Mary, as we call her, for making everybody feel happy and
joyful. We call her the _sunbeam_,' added Dora; 'and Clara Beaumont we
call the _evening star_, she is so gentle and quiet, though she is
quicker at her lessons than we are, a great deal.'

'I remember Clara,' said Harry Maitland; 'poor girl, I think she was in
mourning for her father