ars older than you are."

"Perhaps Alice knows best, Hope," Mr. Langham said. "I'm sorry if you
are disappointed."

Hope held her head a little higher, and turned toward the door.

"I don't mind if you don't wish it, father," she said. "Good-night."
She moved away, but apparently thought better of it, and came back and
stood smiling and nodding to them as they seated themselves in the
carriage. Mr. Langham leaned forward and said, in a troubled voice,
"We will tell you all about it in the morning. I'm very sorry. You
won't be lonely, will you? I'll stay with you if you wish."

"Nonsense!" laughed Hope. "Why, it's given to you, father; don't
bother about me. I'll read something or other and go to bed."

"Good-night, Cinderella," King called out to her.

"Good-night, Prince Charming," Hope answered.

Both Clay and King felt that the girl would not mind missing the ball
so much as she would the fact of having been treated like a child in
their presence, so they refrained from any expression of sympathy or
regret, but raised their hats and bowed a little more impressively than
usual as the carriage drove away.

The picture Hope made, as she stood deserted and forlorn on the steps
of the empty house in her new finery, struck Clay as unnecessarily
pathetic. He felt a strong sense of resentment against her sister and
her father, and thanked heaven devoutly that he was out of their class,
and when Miss Langham continued to express her sorrow that she had been
forced to act as she had done, he remained silent. It seemed to Clay
such a simple thing to give children pleasure, and to remember that
their woes were always out of all proportion to the cause. Children,
dumb animals, and blind people were always grouped together in his mind
as objects demanding the most tender and constant consideration. So
the pleasure of the evening was spoiled for him while he remembered the
hurt and disappointed look in Hope's face, and when Miss Langham asked
him why he was so preoccupied, he told her bluntly that he thought she
had been very unkind to Hope, and that her objections were absurd.

Miss Langham held herself a little more stiffly. "Perhaps you do not
quite understand, Mr. Clay," she said. "Some of us have to conform to
certain rules that the people with whom we best like to associate have
laid down for themselves. If we choose to be conventional, it is
probably because we find it makes life easier for the greater