Bessie did not concern herself much about her friend’s coldness. She had tried to atone to Richard for 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 will arrive before we are ready for them. There, I declare I hear Florence’s voice!” And the two girls ran down and joined Mrs. Sefton in the drawing-room.

Well, it was a very pleasant garden party, and Bessie thoroughly enjoyed herself, though it was the grandest affair she had ever seen—so many people driving up in their carriages, and such smart footmen lingering in the hall, and a bevy of officers who were quartered in the neighborhood. But Bessie was not left out in the cold. Florence Atherton took her under her wing, and introduced some nice people to her. She even took part in one game when there was a vacancy, and her partner, a young lieutenant, was very good-natured, and only laughed when she missed the ball.

“We have won, after all, you see,” he observed, when the match was over.

“Yes, thanks to you,” replied Bessie honestly.

“Not at all. You played very well. Now shall we go and get an ice? I wonder what’s become of Sefton? I don’t see him anywhere.”“Oh, he is playing cricket at Melton. He is captain of the village club, I believe. I don’t think he cares for tennis.”

“I suppose not,” was the dry rejoinder; but the young man slightly elevated his eyebrows in a meaning manner. Bessie heard other remarks on Richard’s absence before the end of the afternoon. A young lady to whom she had been recently introduced addressed the same question to her.

“Mr. Sefton is not putting in an appearance this afternoon, Miss Lambert.”

“No, I believe not; he is otherwise engaged.”

“It is very odd,” replied Miss Green significantly; “but Mr. Sefton always is engaged when his sister gives one of her parties. I am told he hates society, and that sort of thing. Isn’t it a pity that he should be so different from Edna? She is a darling, and so charming, but her brother—” and here Miss Green shrugged her shoulders, and her keen black eyes seemed to demand Bessie’s opinion; but Bessie made no rejoinder. She was not much prepossessed with Miss Green, and left her as soon as politeness allowed her, to sit with an old lady who was very chatty and amusing, and who called her “my dear” at every word.

It was no use trying to speak to Edna; she was always surrounded by a group of young people. Once or twice the thought crossed Bessie’s mind, how Mr. Sinclair would like to see her laughing and talking so long with that handsome Captain Grant. She was not exactly flirting—Bessie would not do her that injustice—but she allowed him to pay her a great deal of attention. It struck her that Mrs.Sefton was uneasy, for she called her to her side once.

“My dear Miss Lambert, I cannot attract Edna’s attention, and I want to speak to her particularly; she is somewhere in the shrubberies with that tall man with the dark mustache—Captain Grant. I spoke to her as she passed just now, but neither of them heard me.”

“Shall I go and fetch her, Mrs. Sefton?”

“I shall be very glad if you will do so, my dear.” And Bessie at once started in pursuit. She overtook them by the summer-house. Edna looked rather bored as she received her mother’s message, though she at once obeyed it; but Captain Grant kept his place at her side.

Mrs.Sefton received him rather coldly.

“Edna,” she said, addressing her daughter, “I want to speak to you about the Mackenzie’s; they are sitting quite alone, and no one is talking to them; and that tall brother of their’s has not played a single game.”

“That is his own fault. I offered him Marian Atherton for a partner ages ago, but he plays badly; as for the girls, they keep aloof from everybody. I introduced Mr. Sayers and Major Sparkes to them, but they have evidently frightened them away. Mamma, are we engaged for Thursday? because Captain Grant wants us to go and see the officers play polo.”

“That is the day I am going up to town, Edna.”

“But you can put it off,” she interposed eagerly. “It will be such fun. Mrs. Grant is to give us tea, and it will be such a treat for Bessie.”

“My mother is counting upon the pleasure of seeing you all, Mrs. Sefton. She has been unable to call, but she is hoping to make your acquaintance in this way.”

“She is very kind, Captain Grant,” returned Mrs. Sefton stiffly; “but unfortunately, as my daughter knows, I have a very important engagement for that day.”

“I am extremely sorry to hear it; still, if the young ladies care to drive over, my mother will chaperone them,” persisted Captain Grant; “or perhaps their brother.”

“Oh, of course! I forgot Richard,” exclaimed Edna, disregarding her mother’s evident objections.

Mrs. Sefton looked annoyed, but she said civilly:

“I will see what Richard thinks; but you must not take anything for granted, Edna, until I have spoken to him.”

“Oh, I will tease him into taking us,” returned Edna gayly. “I do love polo, and I am sure Bessie will be delighted. Now we must start another game, Captain Grant.” And before her mother could interpose Edna had crossed the lawn with him.

“Shall you be very disappointed if you do not see polo, Miss Lambert?” asked Mrs. Sefton presently.

“No, indeed. But I am afraid Edna will be; she seems to have set her heart on going.”

“Richard will not take her,” returned Mrs. Sefton; “he has a strong objection to Captain Grant; and I must own I think he is right. He is very handsome, but he has not a straightforward look. I have no wish to see him intimate here. He is forward and pushing, and does not take a rebuff. But Edna does not agree with me,” with a quick, impatient sigh.

Captain Grant’s unfortunate invitation entirely marred the harmony of the evening. Directly the guests had left, the family sat down to a cold collation, instead of a regular dinner. Richard had only just come in and taken his place, declaring that he was as hungry as a hunter, when Edna informed him of their plans for Thursday.

“Mamma has to go up to town, so she cannot possibly go with us, and the carriage will have to fetch her from the station, so you must drive us over to Staplehurst in your dog-cart, Ritchie. I dare say Bessie will think that fun.”

Richard glanced uneasily at his stepmother before he answered, as though he wished for her opinion, and she gave him a significant look.

“I am very sorry, Edna, but I am afraid it is impossible. I have to go over to Fordham on business, and I cannot possibly be back until six.”

“On some stupid farming business, I suppose,” returned Edna, and it was evident her temper could ill brook the contradiction. Her color rose, and there was an ominous sparkle in her eye; but Richard answered composedly:

“Yes; I have to meet Medway and Stephenson. I am sorry to disappoint you and Miss Lambert but Thursday is never a free day with me.”

“No, indeed, nor any other day of the week when I want you to do anything,” returned Edna, with rising excitement. “Now don’t make any more excuses, Richard. Do you think I am a child to believe in your Medways and Stephensons? I saw you look at mamma before you answered, and you think she does not wish me to go.”

“My darling, why need you excite yourself so?” exclaimed Mrs. Sefton.

“It is you that excite me, mamma, you and Richard. You have got some foolish notion in your heads about Captain Grant, just because the poor man is civil to me. You treat me, both of you, as though I were a baby—as though I could not be trusted to take care of myself. It is very unjust,” continued Edna, “and I will not bear it from Richard.”

“I confess I don’t see the gist of your remarks,” returned her brother, who was now growing angry in his turn; “and I don’t think all this can be very amusing to Miss Lambert. If my mother has an objection to your keeping up an acquaintance with Captain Grant, it is your duty to give the thing up. In my opinion she is right; he is not the sort of friend for you, Edna, and his mother is disliked by all the officers’ wives. I should think Sinclair would have a right to object to your frequent visits to Staplehurst.”

But Edna was in no mood to listen to reason.

“Neville knows better than to state his objections to me,” she returned haughtily; “and it is quite unnecessary to drag his name into the present conversation. I will only trouble you to answer me one question: Do you absolutely refuse to do me this favor, to drive Miss Lambert and me over to Staplehurst on Thursday?”

“I must refuse,” returned Richard firmly. “It is quite true that my engagement can be put off, but it is so evident that my mother objects to the whole thing, that I will not be a party to your disobeying her wishes.”

Edna rose from the table and made him a profound courtesy. “Thank you for your moral lecture, Richard; but it is quite thrown away. I am not going to be controlled like a child. If you will not take us, Bessie and I will go alone. I quite mean it, mamma.” And Edna marched angrily out of the room.

“Oh, dear,” observed Mrs. Sefton fretfully; “I have not seen her so put out for months; it must have been your manner, Richard. You were so hard on the poor child. Now she will go and make herself ill with crying.”

“Did I misunderstand you?” asked Richard, astonished at this. “Did you wish me to take them, after all?”

“Of course not; what an absurd question! I would not have Edna go for worlds. Neville only said the other day how much he disliked the Grants, and how he hoped Edna kept them at a distance. I think he has heard something to Captain Grant’s disadvantage; but you know how wilful she is; you might have carried your point with a little tact and finesse, but you are always so clumsy with Edna.”

“You did not help me much,” returned Richard rather bitterly. “You left me to bear the brunt of Edna’s temper, as usual. Why did you not tell her yourself your reasons for disliking her to go? But, no; I am to be the scapegoat, as usual, and Edna will not speak to me for a week.” And so saying he pushed his chair away and walked to the window.

Mrs. Sefton did not answer her stepson. Most likely her conscience told her that his reproach was a just one. She only glanced at Bessie’s grieved face and downcast eyes, and proposed to retire.

The drawing-room was empty when they entered it, and as Bessie noticed Mrs. Sefton’s wistful look round the room, she said timidly:

“May I go and talk to Edna?”

“No, my dear; far better not,” was the reply. “Edna has a hot temper; she takes after her poor father in that. We must give her time to cool. I will go to her myself presently. She was very wrong to answer Richard in that way, but he has so little tact.”

Bessie did not trust herself to reply. She took her book to the window, that her hostess might not find it incumbent on her to talk, and in a short time Mrs. Sefton left the room. Richard entered it a moment later.

“Are you alone?” he asked, in some surprise. “I suppose my mother has gone up to Edna?”

“Yes; she is uneasy about her. Shall I play to you a little, Mr. Sefton? It is getting too dark to read.” Bessie made this overture as a sort of amends to Richard, and the friendly little act seemed to soothe him.

“You are very kind. I should like it of all things,” he returned gratefully. So Bessie sat down and played her simple tunes and sung her little songs until the young man’s perturbed spirits were calmed and quieted by the pure tones of the girlish voice; and presently when she paused for a minute, he said:

“It is awfully good of you to take all this trouble for me.”

“Oh, no, it is not,” replied Bessie, smiling. “I like singing; besides, you are feeling dull this evening; your talk with your sister has upset you.”

“No one ever noticed before if I were dull or not,” he replied, with a sigh; “but I am afraid that sounds ungracious. I think we owe you an apology, Miss Lambert, for airing our family disagreements in your presence. I am more sorry than I can say that you should have been subjected to this unpleasantness.”

“Oh, never mind me,” returned Bessie cheerfully. “I am only sorry for all of you. I dare say Edna did not mean half she said; people say all sorts of things when they are angry. I am afraid she is bitterly disappointed. I have heard her say before how fond she is of watching polo; but I dare say she will soon forget all about it.”

“I cannot flatter myself with that belief. Edna does not so easily forget when her whims are crossed. I dare say she will send me to Coventry all the week; but I can’t help that. Nothing would induce me to drive her over to Staplehurst, and she will hardly carry out her threat of going without me.”

“Of course not,” and Bessie fairly laughed.“No, it was an idle threat; but all the same it is very vexatious.” But Bessie would not let him dwell on the grievance. She began telling him about Tom, and a funny scrape he had got into last term; and this led to a conversation about her home, and here Bessie grew eloquent; and she was in the midst of a description of Cliffe and its environs when Mrs. Sefton reappeared, looking fagged and weary, and informed them that Edna had a headache and had retired to bed.

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