ers your door he or she is
sacred, and no true lady or gentlemen ever criticises, much less
apologizes for, the dress of a visitor. Mrs. Dean was sorry to observe
the sneer on Florrie's usually sweet face, and glancing from it to
Cynthia's, she was struck with the contrast.

Never had Cynthia in her life been seated at a table so beautiful. The
tumblers of ruby and amber glass, the plates with their delicate fruit
and flower decoration, every plate a picture, the bouquet in the centre
reflected in a beautiful little round mirror, the pretty silver tubs
filled with broken ice, the shining knives and forks, and the dainty tea
equipage, were so charming that she felt like a princess in an enchanted
castle. But she expressed no surprise. She behaved quietly, made no
mistakes, used her knife and fork like a little lady, and was as
unconscious of herself and her looks as the carnation pink is of its
color and shape.

Mrs. Dean meditated. She did not quite like to ask this child to wear a
borrowed dress, and she felt that Florrie needed to take a lesson in
politeness. Drawing the latter aside, she said, "My darling, I am sorry
you should treat my little friend rudely; you have hardly spoken to
her."

"I can't help it, mamma. She isn't one of the set we go with. A little
common thing like that! See what shoes she has on. And her hands are so
red and coarse! They look as if she washed dishes for a living."

"Something very like it is the case, I'm afraid, Florrie dear. I fear
she has a very dull time at home. But the child is a little lady. I
shall feel very much ashamed if she is more a lady than my own
daughters. See, Effie has made friends with her."

"And so will I," said Florrie. "Forgive me, mamma, for being so silly."
And the three girls had a pleasant chat before the visitors came, and
grew so confidential that Cynthia told Effie and Florrie about the one
great shadow of her life--the mortgage which made her papa so unhappy,
and was such a worry to poor Aunt Kate. She didn't know what it was; it
seemed to her like some dreadful ogre always in the background ready to
pounce on the little home. Neither Effie nor Florrie knew, but they
agreed with her that it must be something horrid, and Effie promised to
ask her own papa, who knew everything, all about it.

"Depend upon it, Cynthia," said Effie, "if papa can do anything to help
you, he will. There's nobody like papa in the whole world."

By and by the company bega