Dora’s private parlor. Then about nine o’clock Mr. Stanhope called, and Ethel found it pleasant enough to watch the lovers and listen to Mrs. Denning’s opinions of what had been already planned. And the next day she seemed to be so absolutely necessary to the movement of the marriage preparations, that it was nearly dark before she was permitted to return home.     

       It was but a short walk between the two houses, and Ethel was resolved to have the refreshment of the exercise. And how good it was to feel the pinch of the frost and the gust of the north wind, and after it to come to the happy portal of home, and the familiar atmosphere of the cheerful hall, and then to peep into the firelit room in which Ruth lay dreaming in the dusky shadows.     

       “Ruth, darling!”      

       “Ethel! I have just sent for you to come home.” Then she rose and took Ethel in her arms. “How delightfully cold you are! And what rosy cheeks! Do you know that we have a little dinner party?”      

       “Mr. Mostyn?”      

       “Yes, and your grandmother, and perhaps Dr. Fisher—the Doctor is not certain.”      

       “And I see that you are already dressed. How handsome you look! That black lace dress, with the dull gold ornaments, is all right.”      

       “I felt as if jewels would be overdress for a family dinner.”      

       “Yes, but jewels always snub men so completely. It is not altogether that they represent money; they give an air of royalty, and a woman without jewels is like an uncrowned queen—she does not get the homage. I can’t account for it, but there it is. I shall wear my sapphire necklace. What did father say about our new kinsman?”      

       “Very little. It was impossible to judge from his words what he thought. I fancied that he might have been a little disappointed.”      

       “I should not wonder. We shall see.”      

       “You will be dressed in an hour?”      

       “In less time. Shall I wear white or blue?”      

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