y that it was the still higher world of
culture and knowledge, in which genius, and wit, and intellect stood
instead of rank or riches. How Tozer's granddaughter had got admission
there, he did not ask himself, but this was what he thought, and to talk
to her was a new sensation. He was quite unconscious of anything more.

Nobody knew when Ursula took her place at the head of the table in her
pretty white dress, which she had worn at the Dorsets', how much toil
and anxiety the preparations had given her. At the last moment, when her
mind was so far clear of the _entrees_, &c.--as clear as the mind of an
inexperienced dinner-giver can be, until the blessed moment when they
are eaten and done with--she had to take Sarah in hand, who was not very
clear about the waiting, and to instruct her according to her own very
imperfect knowledge how to fulfil her duties.

"Think it is not a dinner-party at all, but only just our ordinary
luncheon, and don't get fluttered; and when I look at you like _this_
come quite close, and I will whisper what you are to do. And oh, Sarah,
like a good creature, don't break anything!" said Ursula almost with
tears.

These were all the directions she could give, and they, it must be
allowed, were somewhat vague. The excitement was becoming to her. She
sat down with a dreadful flutter in her heart, but with her eyes shining
and sparkling. Clarence Copperhead, who extended an arm very carelessly
to take her downstairs, absolutely certain of being a more important
person than his guest Northcote, was roused for the first time to the
consciousness that she was very pretty, which he had not found out
before. "But no style," he said to himself. Phoebe was the one who had
style. She sat between Mr. May and the stranger, but devoted herself to
her host chiefly, displaying a gentle contempt of the younger men in his
presence. No anxiety was in her mind about the dinner. She did not
follow the fate of those _entrees_ round the table with terrible
palpitations, as poor Ursula did; and, alas, the _entrees_ were not
good, and Ursula had the mortification to see the dishes she had taken
so much trouble with, rejected by one and another. Reginald ate some,
for which she blessed him, and so did Phoebe, but Mr. May sent his plate
away with polite execrations.

"Tell your cook she shall go if she sends up such uneatable stuff again,
Ursula," her father cried from the other end of the table.

Two big tears dash