of dismissal, and Ruth fell into the
ranks by her friend, Miss Wood.

"Never mind, Ruthie; you're prettier than any of them," said a merry,
good-natured girl, whose plainness excluded her from any of the envy
of rivalry.

"Yes! I know I am pretty," said Ruth, sadly, "but I am sorry I have
no better gown, for this is very shabby. I am ashamed of it myself,
and I can see Mrs Mason is twice as much ashamed. I wish I need not
go. I did not know we should have to think about our own dress at
all, or I should not have wished to go."

"Never mind, Ruth," said Jenny, "you've been looked at now, and Mrs
Mason will soon be too busy to think about you and your gown."

"Did you hear Ruth Hilton say she knew she was pretty?" whispered one
girl to another, so loudly that Ruth caught the words.

"I could not help knowing," answered she, simply, "for many people
have told me so."

At length these preliminaries were over, and they were walking
briskly through the frosty air; the free motion was so inspiriting
that Ruth almost danced along, and quite forgot all about shabby
gowns and grumbling guardians. The shire-hall was even more striking
than she had expected. The sides of the staircase were painted with
figures that showed ghostly in the dim light, for only their faces
looked out of the dark, dingy canvas, with a strange fixed stare of
expression.

The young milliners had to arrange their wares on tables in the
ante-room, and make all ready before they could venture to peep
into the ball-room, where the musicians were already tuning their
instruments, and where one or two char-women (strange contrast! with
their dirty, loose attire, and their incessant chatter, to the grand
echoes of the vaulted room) were completing the dusting of benches
and chairs.

They quitted the place as Ruth and her companions entered. They had
talked lightly and merrily in the ante-room, but now their voices
were hushed, awed by the old magnificence of the vast apartment. It
was so large, that objects showed dim at the further end, as through
a mist. Full-length figures of county worthies hung around, in all
varieties of costume, from the days of Holbein to the present time.
The lofty roof was indistinct, for the lamps were not fully lighted
yet; while through the richly-painted Gothic window at one end the
moonbeams fell, many-tinted, on the floor, and mocked with their
vividness the struggles of the artificial light to illuminate its
little s