s good in every possible way."

"I can listen no longer," said Caroline to Edward, rising to change
her seat. "If I hear any more I shall absolutely hate the Watkinsons.
How provoking that they should have sent us the first invitation. If
we had only thought of waiting till we could hear from Mrs. St.
Leonard!"

"For shame, Caroline," said her brother, "how can you talk so of
persons you have never seen, and to whom you ought to feel grateful
for the kindness of their invitation; even if it has interfered with
another party, that I must confess seems to offer unusual attractions.
Now I have a presentiment that we shall find the Watkinson part of the
evening very enjoyable."

As soon as tea was over, Mrs. Morland and her daughter repaired to
their toilettes. Fortunately, fashion as well as good taste, has
decided that, at a summer party, the costume of the ladies should
never go beyond an elegant simplicity. Therefore our two ladies in
preparing for their intended appearance at Mrs. St. Leonard's, were
enabled to attire themselves in a manner that would not seem out of
place in the smaller company they expected to meet at the Watkinsons.
Over an under-dress of lawn, Caroline Morland put on a white organdy
trimmed with lace, and decorated with bows of pink ribbon. At the back
of her head was a wreath of fresh and beautiful pink flowers, tied
with a similar ribbon. Mrs. Morland wore a black grenadine over a
satin, and a lace cap trimmed with white.

It was but a quarter past nine o'clock when their carriage stopped at
the Watkinson door. The front of the house looked very dark. Not a ray
gleamed through the Venetian shutters, and the glimmer beyond the
fan-light over the door was almost imperceptible. After the coachman
had rung several times, an Irish girl opened the door, cautiously (as
Irish girls always do), and admitted them into the entry, where one
light only was burning in a branch lamp. "Shall we go upstairs?" said
Mrs. Morland. "And what for would ye go upstairs?" said the girl in a
pert tone. "It's all dark there, and there's no preparations. Ye can
lave your things here a-hanging on the rack. It is a party ye're
expecting? Blessed are them what expects nothing."

The sanguine Edward Morland looked rather blank at this intelligence,
and his sister whispered to him, "We'll get off to Mrs. St. Leonard's
as soon as we possibly can. When did you tell the coachman to come for
us?"

"At half past ten," was the