n their faces. I know some of them get
soured and narrow, but perhaps they have had much to try them."

"Bessie, I do believe you will be an old maid yourself, some day."

"Your prophecy does not frighten me in the least If I am to be an old
maid, I mean to be a very happy one. You know, Edna, how often I have
talked to you of my dear Mr. Robertson. Well, he said something on this
subject in one of his sermons that pleased me very much. I remember dear
Hatty liked it too. I cannot recollect the exact words, but it was to
this effect--that much of our happiness depends on the way we look on
life; that if we regard it as a complete and finished existence, then no
doubt those who fail in their aims are disappointed and discontented. In
this the unmarried and childless woman, and the widow who has lost her
treasure, will be agreed; but if we regard our present existence as only
a prelude to a better--as an education, a training for a high and
happier sphere--then the disappointed may take heart, for they have only
come to the beginning of their life, and may surely wait with some
degree of patience until a future life expands their happiness. Grown-up
people do not want their sugar-plums all at once, as children do--don't
you see it, Edna?"

"Oh, yes, I know what you good people mean." But she spoke with a
degree of pettishness. "But I have not climbed as high as you, and I
shall be a shriveled, cantankerous old maid."

"You will be nothing of the kind," replied Bessie, kissing her. "But
luncheon is ready, and here comes your mother; pray, don't say anything
to her about not going to the Pavilion, or she will be so disappointed;
she never enjoys anything without you." And to her great relief Edna
acquiesced.

Mrs. Sefton talked a great deal about the bazaar during luncheon. The
Tozers and Lady Hampton were going, and she had heard that Minnie
Crawford's costume was perfect, and suited her admirably.

"I suppose I had better go and get ready," observed Edna, pushing back
her chair, "or mamma will never survive the disappointment. The carriage
will be here at half-past three." And she marched out of the room with
rather a bored expression on her face.

"Nothing pleases her," complained Mrs. Sefton; "she seems tired of
everything. I believe she is only going to the bazaar because she thinks
it will give me pleasure; and the crowd and hot room will make her ill.
Run after her, Bessie, and beg her not to go. You and I wil