me; Rosamond gave the message to her mother. Then
she met Lucilla Waters in the street.

"I was just thinking of you," she said. She did not say, "coming to
you," for truly, in her mind, she had not decided it. But seeing her
gentle, refined face, pale always with the life that had little frolic
in it, she spoke right out to that, without deciding.

"We want you at our Halloween party on Saturday. Will you come? You
will have Helen and the Inglesides to come with, and perhaps Leslie."

Rosamond, even while delivering her message to Mrs. Goldthwaite for
Leslie, had seen an unopened note lying upon the table, addressed to
her in the sharp, tall hand of Olivia Marchbanks.

She stopped in at the Haddens, told them how sorry she had been to
find they were promised; asked if it were any use to go to the
Hendees'; and when Elinor said, "But you will be sure to be asked to
the Marchbankses yourselves," replied, "It is a pity they should come
together, but we had quite made up our minds to have this little
frolic, and we have begun, too, you see."

Then she did go to the Hendees', although it was dark; and Maria
Hendee, who seldom went out to parties, promised to come. "They would
divide," she said. "Fanny might go to Olivia's. Holiday-keeping was
different from other invites. One might take liberties."

Now the Hendees were people who could take liberties, if anybody. Last
of all, Rosamond went in and asked Pen Pennington.

It was Thursday, just at dusk, when Adelaide Marchbanks walked over,
at last, and proffered her invitation.

"You had better all come to us," she said, graciously. "It is a pity
to divide. We want the same people, of course,--the Hendees, and the
Haddens, and Leslie." She hardly attempted to disguise that we
ourselves were an afterthought.

Rosamond told her, very sweetly, that we were obliged, but that she
was afraid it was quite too late; we had asked others; the Hobarts,
and the Inglesides; one or two whom Adelaide did not know,--Helen
Josselyn, and Lucilla Waters; the parties would not interfere much,
after all.

Rosamond took up, as it were, a little sceptre of her own, from that
moment.

Leslie Goldthwaite had been away for three days, staying with her
friend, Mrs. Frank Scherman, in Boston. She had found Olivia's note,
of Monday evening, when she returned; also, she heard of Rosamond's
verbal invitation. Leslie was very bright about these things. She saw
in a moment how it had been. Her