what lovely brocade gowns and
quilted petticoats and old-fashioned fol-de-rols used to be laid away in
your grandmother's attic that belonged to _her_ grandmother. If you
like, you may give your place to Agnes, and let her be the belle of the
ball."

Lloyd returned the pressure of the arm about her with an impulsive hug.
"Oh, I _knew_ you'd think of something perfectly lovely," she cried.
"That would be much the best way, for she is so timid and quiet you
couldn't keep her from being a wall-flowah at an ordinary pah'ty. But
this way she will have something to do, and she'll have to talk when
people come to buy things. I wish it were not so long till to-morrow! I
want to tell her about it this minute."

Usually the choir practice was a bore to Lloyd. She was one of the few
members who sang by note, and Mrs. Walton, the leader, had to take them
through the simple anthems over and over again, until they caught the
tune by ear. Lloyd, knowing that her strong young voice was needed, sang
dutifully through the tiresome repetitions, but sometimes she wanted to
put her fingers in her ears to shut out the sound. To-night she did not
chafe inwardly at the false starts and the monotonous chant, "Oh, be
thankful! Oh, be thankful!" which had to be sung over numberless times
in order that the bass and alto singers might learn to come in at the
proper places with their responsive refrain. She was so absorbed in
thinking of the pleasure in store for Agnes, and imagining what she
would say, that she sang the three measures over and over, unheeding how
long the choir stuck there, or uncaring how many times they seesawed up
and down on the same tiresome notes.

The excitement began for Agnes next day, when Lloyd delivered Miss
Allison's invitation, and bore her away in the carriage to search
through the attic for a costume. She had never been farther than the
door at Locust. Her journeys thither had been to carry home some
finished garment. But many an hour of patient sewing had been brightened
by her sisters' tales of the place. Both Miss Sarah and Miss Marietta
remembered it affectionately, for the sake of the woman who had welcomed
them there on so many happy occasions in the past.

Agnes thought she knew just how the interior of Locust would look,
especially the stately old drawing-room, with its portraits and candles,
its harp and the faint odour of rose-leaves; and really there was
something familiar to her in its appearance as