There was another lawn party at Laurel Hill. Again the band was playing in the summer-house on the lawn; light feet kept time to the merry dance; lights glimmered in the trees, and the scene was like fairy-land.

More than a year had passed since the last party. The orchards had bloomed again, and dropped their scented red and white blossoms. The boughs hung low with gold and crimson globes of fair white fruit. The timid, tender spring flowers were gone, and summer's glowing beauties reigned instead.

Since Walter Earle had graduated he and Violet had been traveling in the South with a party of friends. They had returned now, and this reception to their young friends had been planned and carried out with a great deal of interest and pleasure. It was a far more pretentious affair than the almost impromptu one of last year. Several persons had come from a distance to attend it. Among the latter was Ronald Valchester.

Jaquelina Meredith, fresh from her school at Staunton, was there also. Violet had feebly opposed an invitation to her at first, but her mother and Walter had promptly overruled her embarrassed objections.

"My dear," Mrs. Earle had said in some surprise, "why do you object to Lina Meredith? Do you not like her?"

Pretty Violet, grown taller and even more stylish than of old, flushed and looked annoyed.

"Lina is not in our set," she said, "and she is too poor to get a party dress; of course she could not come without one."

"She had the prettiest dress at the party last year," said Walter, warmly.

"That is all you know about it," said Violet, laughingly. "It was her mother's wedding-dress. She had not a decent thing of her own."

"She can wear her mother's dress again," said Mrs. Earle and her son simultaneously, and Mrs. Earle added almost pleadingly: "Do let her come, Violet, she is so young and pretty, and would enjoy it so much."

"And she has so few pleasures," said Walter, with commendable forethought for such a giddy young man.

"Oh, she can come—certainly," Violet answered coldly. "Only I thought she would not care to come unless she could appear as others do. Last year she was quite ignorant, she did not know anything about society. But now that she has spent a year at boarding-school, she knows, of course, that a shabby-looking girl is next to nobody. Invite her if you like, I only wished to spare her feelings."

"I think we should spare her feelings better by asking than by leaving her out," replied gentle Mrs. Earle.

So the orphan girl was asked, and Mr. Meredith came again and brought her as before. And Violet was mistaken this time, for Jaquelina had really something to wear.

This time it was a pretty robe of some soft, thin stuff, silver-gray, and shining in the moonlight. The neck was cut square, and edged with some soft, pretty lace. The sleeves were short, and exposed the perfectly molded arms.

Jaquelina had brightened it here and there with a few vivid scarlet roses, and the effect was exquisite.

In the flickering light of the lamps, and the softer gleam of the moonlight, the slight and graceful form seemed to float in a robe of silvery mist. Violet, in pale blue satin and pearls, felt eclipsed and resentful again as she had done at the lawn party a year before.

"Lina, where did you get such a pretty dress?" she asked her, unceremoniously.

"Is it pretty?" asked Jaquelina, pleased. "I bought it at Staunton to wear at one of our school concerts where I had to sing a part."

"Can you sing?" asked Violet, incredulous.

"A little," admitted Jaquelina, modestly.

"And play?" said Violet.

And again Jaquelina answered shyly:

"A little; only the accompaniments to my songs, you know, Violet."

"Then I shall be certain to call on you to sing and play to-night, and you must not refuse," said Violet, smiling to herself at the idea of the singing and playing Jaquelina could have acquired in a year.

She did not look frightened at Violet's words. She simply said that she would do her best. Violet had no idea what that "best" meant.

"Mr. Valchester is here," she said, after a pause, with a keen glance at the other. "He came yesterday on purpose to attend our party. But you have totally forgotten him, I suppose," turning her head a little sidewise.

"Oh, no; I remember him perfectly well," said Jaquelina, unembarrassed.

"Do you? You have a good memory. I believe you only saw him once or twice."

"Three times," Jaquelina answered.

"I do not believe he has remembered you so well," said Violet, arranging her bracelets. "When some one named you this morning at breakfast, he did not speak of you nor ask any questions. He appeared calm and uninterested as if you were a stranger."

"He has probably forgotten me," said Jaquelina, quietly, and Violet could not see any change in the charming face as she spoke the careless words.

She had changed somewhat since she had been away, and acquired a touch more of the grave, pretty dignity that had always seemed so natural to her.

There was a minute's pause while they stood together beneath the arched lattice work of honeysuckle and roses, like a beautiful picture of night and morning; the one with her fair, blonde beauty and pale blue robe; the other in her soft gray draperies, and dusky eyes with that starry gleam in their darkness.

That thought came into the mind of the gentleman who came up to them from a side-path, almost abruptly. It was Ronald Valchester.

"Miss Earle," he said, "I think you promised to give me the first dance."

"I am ready to keep my word," answered Violet, with a brilliant smile.

Then she saw that the blue-gray eyes were gazing intently at her silent companion.

"Oh, Mr. Valchester," she cried, "I see you have forgotten Lina Meredith. She was at our party last summer, and went boating on the river with us one day—don't you remember?"

Some pretty lines somewhere read rushed into his mind. Jaquelina embodied the thought:

He drew a long breath and stepped forward with extended hand.

"Miss Meredith, is it really you?" he said. "You must pardon me that I did not recognize you on the instant. I had not forgotten you, but you have changed."

She gave him her slim hand a moment, and would have spoken, but Violet seemed impatient, and tapped her daintily slippered foot restlessly.

"I hear the first notes of the band," she said. "If we do not hasten they will make up the dance without me."

Valchester bowed and offered her his arm just as Walter Earle came hurrying up.

"Miss Lina, will you give me the first dance?" he said; "you owe it to me, indeed, for I taught you your first steps last year. Do you remember?"

"As though it were yesterday," she replied, with a smile, as she put her slight hand on his arm.

In the whirl of the dance Valchester bent his tall head over her a moment to ask, almost pleadingly:

"Will you give me the next dance, Miss Meredith?"

"Yes," she answered, as their hands met a moment in the giddy turn.

She did not guess how long it seemed to Valchester before the next dance came.

Walter Earle took her to her seat and lingered beside her until his friend availed himself of the first notes of the music to come and lead her away.

"I hoped she had not a partner for this dance," cried Walter, dolorously. "I meant to sit here and talk sentiment to her. I shall regret that I taught her the steps since you fellows continually take her away from me."

"I will sit by you, Walter," said his sister, coming to his side.

There was a smile on her face, but her voice sounded sad or troubled somehow.

"What, not dancing?" he said, surprised.

"Not this time. I am tired and would rather rest," she answered.

She sat down by his side and laid her white, jeweled hand on his arm.

"Walter, are you in love with Lina Meredith?" she asked him, very low.

Walter started and flushed.

"That's a leading question—rather," he said. "Well, Violet, I certainly admire her. I have never seen a more charming little girl in my life."

"Is Ronald Valchester in love with her, too?" pursued Violet, looking away from him that he might not see how much pain the question had brought into her eyes.

Walter laughed at the question.

"Valchester in love?" he said. "The idea is too supremely ridiculous to be entertained. What put such an idea in your head, Vi?"

"I don't know," she said. "Yes, I do, too! Last summer, you know, he said she was so fascinating."

"So he did—and so she is," said her brother. "But in love! Valchester is too devoted to his books and his esthetic fancies to fall in love with anything less ethereal than the muse of poetry."

"If you are in love with Lina Meredith, why don't you propose to her and have the matter settled?" she asked, petulantly.

"I didn't know you were anxious to have Lina Meredith for a sister," said Walter, staring.

"I should be very pleased," said Violet, desperately, and she spoke the truth.

She knew that Jaquelina was good and pretty. She had nothing against her except her vague jealousy of Ronald Valchester.

"If you mean to propose for her, pray do so at once, and let us have the wedding this fall," said Violet, with feverish impatience.

Meanwhile Jaquelina's partner, with his tall head bent over her, was saying:

"I had not forgotten you, Miss Meredith, though I seemed startled for the moment. Did you think I had?"

The dark eyes looked at him in smiling gratitude.

"I know that you remembered me kindly once, at least," she replied. "It was when you sent me the books. Oh, I could not tell you how much I enjoyed them, Mr. Valchester. You cannot imagine what happiness they gave me. I could never thank you enough for your kindness."

"If you remembered me kindly a few times it was quite sufficient," he said. "Did you—Lina?"

"Did I what?" said the girl, with a keen shiver of some indefinable emotion as the low name passed his lips.

"Think of me?" he answered, looking straight into her dark, uplifted eyes.

"Often and often," she responded, with frank gravity. "You see I had the beautiful books to recall you to my mind every day. Then one day when I was looking through the book you read in the orchard, I found——"

"What?" he asked, as she paused with a pleased smile on her scarlet lips.

"I found on one page a pressed four-leaved clover. I remembered that Violet had given you one that day, and I was so pleased," she said.

"Pleased—why?" asked Ronald Valchester.

"That you had given it to me," she answered.

"You are not superstitious enough to believe that the four-leaved clover brings good luck?" he said, looking at her with a smile in his twilight-colored eyes.

"Oh, no," she answered, with frank innocence; "I was pleased because I thought it seemed a silent message from you to me to say that you wish me well."