. She made up in modesty what she lacked in aplomb. Her
months in school had not eradicated a certain self-consciousness born
of her secret. The brain-cells never lose the impressions of youth, and
Rena's Patesville life was not far enough removed to have lost its
distinctness of outline. Of the two, the present was more of a dream,
the past was the more vivid reality. At school she had learned
something from books and not a little from observation. She had been
able to compare herself with other girls, and to see wherein she
excelled or fell short of them. With a sincere desire for improvement,
and a wish to please her brother and do him credit, she had sought to
make the most of her opportunities. Building upon a foundation of
innate taste and intelligence, she had acquired much of the
self-possession which comes from a knowledge of correct standards of
deportment. She had moreover learned without difficulty, for it suited
her disposition, to keep silence when she could not speak to advantage.
A certain necessary reticence about the past added strength to a
natural reserve. Thus equipped, she held her own very well in the
somewhat trying ordeal of the ball, at which the fiction of queenship
and the attendant ceremonies, which were pretty and graceful, made her
the most conspicuous figure. Few of those who watched her move with
easy grace through the measures of the dance could have guessed how
nearly her heart was in her mouth during much of the time.

"You're doing splendidly, my dear," said Mrs. Newberry, who had
constituted herself Rena's chaperone.

"I trust your Gracious Majesty is pleased with the homage of your
devoted subjects," said Tryon, who spent much of his time by her side
and kept up the character of knight in his speech and manner.

"Very much," replied the Queen of Love and Beauty, with a somewhat
tired smile. It was pleasant, but she would be glad, she thought, when
it was all over.

"Keep up your courage," whispered her brother. "You are not only queen,
but the belle of the ball. I am proud of you. A dozen women here
would give a year off the latter end of life to be in your shoes
to-night."

Rena felt immensely relieved when the hour arrived at which she could
take her departure, which was to be the signal for the breaking-up of
the ball. She was driven home in Tryon's carriage, her brother
accompanying them. The night was warm, and the drive homeward under
the starlight, in the o