of all mortals. "I wonder if Olive is going,
and how she will dress."

"Just like she always does, I suppose, in that old green, with a big
white collar, and her hair pulled straight back, and as smooth as a
door-knob, no ornaments, and look fierce enough to chew every body up. I
do wonder what Olive is good for anyhow, she isn't any comfort to
anybody," and, as Ernestine spoke, her eyes went slyly over to the
glass, where her pretty attitude in Jean's chair, and the sunshine lying
warm on her hair, were reflected.

Usually, Bea would have taken up her sister's cause, and uttered some
conclusive defence, but now she felt abused, and didn't care much what
was said of anybody, so after a moment, Ernestine went on--

"I wish I knew the 'German,' I'm going to ask Dell to teach me, she does
it beautifully. I think it is so hateful in Olive not to dance, it
spoils a set for us, so that we can never dance quadrilles ourselves."

"I suppose she has a right to do as she pleases," answered Bea,
revelling in the questionable luxury of being as cross as she could. "I
don't care whether mama lets us go or not, I haven't a thing to wear,
and of course if I don't go, you can't."

"Oh, but she will, I'll fix you so pretty, that you'll blush to look at
yourself, and you know Mrs. Richards said last summer, that you looked
like an angel in white, and you may have quillings off my bolt of
footing to put in your basque, and around the pleatings;" and, with
these skilfully thrown in words, Ernestine ran off to look over her
little collection of ribbons and laces, while Bea turned her eyes slowly
to the glass, just as her pretty sister had done a moment before, only
not with such an air of perfect satisfaction.

"How pretty Ernestine is, and even if she is selfish, she's always so
willing to loan things, that any one doesn't think that it's just
because she doesn't happen to want them herself. I hope if Olive does
go, she will fix up a little," and with a sigh Bea turned away from her
reflection, and after covering Jean with a shawl, went down to see if
dinner was not nearly ready.

If they could have seen Olive, they would never needed to have asked if
she was going. All the afternoon she walked slowly up and down her room,
sometimes increasing her gait, as the thoughts crowded and doubled the
deep trouble in her face; and, in her mind was one thought that mastered
every other, and that often formed itself into words and crossed her