his sister's unkindness, and she had
succeeded in giving one person pleasure.

"I dare say her conscience tells her that she has been naughty, and that
makes her cross with me," thought Bessie, who was too healthy minded to
harbor unnecessary scruples.

Hatty would have made herself wretched under the circumstances; would
have accused herself of boldness, and love of display, and a want of
consideration for Edna; for Hatty, who was a self-tormentor by nature,
could spin a whole web of worries out of a single thread; but Bessie
never troubled herself with morbid after-thoughts. "Edna will be all
right with me to-morrow," she said to herself; and she was right in her
prognostication.

Edna came downstairs the next morning radiant with good humor, and was
even civil to Richard. It was a brilliant day; her friends had all
accepted her invitation, and she was looking forward to a most enjoyable
afternoon.

It was impossible for Bessie to resist the influence of her friend's
gayety and flow of spirits. Edna's example was infectious, and Bessie
was soon laughing heartily at her nonsensical speeches. There was no
quiet for reading that morning. She had to practice tennis with Edna,
and help her arrange the flowers; and finally she was carried off to be
made smart.

"I wish you had a white dress, too," observed Edna regretfully; for in
her heart she thought Bessie's favorite gray gown very dowdy and
Quakerish. "But we must try to enliven you with a few flowers. You are
going to wear a gray hat. Wait a moment." And Edna darted out of the
room, and returned a moment afterward with a dainty cream lace fichu.
"Look, this lace is lovely! Mamma gave it to me, but I never wear it
now, and it will just suit you. Now let me fasten in a few of those
creamy roses. Well, you do look nice after all, Daisy dear."

"Yes; but not half so nice as you," replied Bessie, looking with honest
admiration at the pretty young creature. Edna's soft white dress just
suited her fair hair and delicate complexion, and she looked so slim and
graceful, as she stood before the glass fastening a rosebud at her
throat, that Bessie said, involuntarily, "How nice it must be to be so
pretty!" but there was no trace of envy in her tone.

Edna blushed a little over the compliment.

"Do I look pretty? Thank you, Bessie. Isn't it a pity Neville cannot see
me?" and she laughed mischievously over her vain speech. "Now, come
along, there's a dear, or the people