This young lady was now exactly eighteen years of age. She was out, and so was her twin sister, Mabel. Annie, who was only seventeen, was still supposed to be in the school-room, but she was very much _en evidence_ at all the parties and entertainments; but Penelope, who was only fourteen, was obliged to be to a certain extent under tutelage. The Carters' ball, or rather, as they expressed it themselves, their little impromptu dance, had been the talk of all the girls and young men who were lucky enough to be invited to it. It was a great honour to be intimate with the Carters; they were jolly, good-natured girls, and certainly without a trace of snobbishness in their compositions. They were so rich that they did not want to be bothered, as they expressed it, with monied people; they liked to choose their own friends. Molly and Ethel and Nesta had attracted Clara and Mabel some time ago, and their brothers, too, had considered the girls very pretty; for the young Aldworths were of the laughing, joking, gay sort of girls, who could talk in a pert, frank fashion; who were not troubled with an overplus of brains, and, in consequence, were exceedingly popular with certain individuals. It was to visit the Carters, therefore, and to unburden her mind of its load, that Ethel, with her aching head, proceeded to go on this hot summer afternoon. She found the girls and two boy friends from the neighbourhood having tea under the wide-spreading cedar tree on the lawn. This cedar tree had been the pride of Sir John St Just, but Mr Carter seriously thought of cutting it down in order to still further enlarge the view; therefore the poor old cedar was at present on sufferance, and the young people were enjoying its shade when Ethel appeared with crimson cheeks, and eyes which still bore traces of the heavy tears which she had shed. They jumped up, and Mabel ran to meet her. "This is good; and so you have followed your horrid, detestable note. Why, of course, you are coming to-night. Clara and I won't hear of a refusal." "We cannot, really," said Ethel. "We can't either of us come." "Let me introduce you to Mr John and Mr Henry Grace," said Mabel, bringing Ethel up to the rest of the party. "Have some tea, Ethel, do," said Clara, holding out her hand a little languidly. "How awfully hot you look." Ethel sank down on a chair which one of the others had vacated and allowed herself to be cooled and petted. Clara suddenly began on the subject of the ball. "What a queer note you sent; what does it all mean?" she asked. "I will tell you afterwards; I have come over to explain," said Ethel, "if I can see you--you and dear Mabel for a few minutes alone before I leave." "Dear me, what is the mystery?" said Jim, who had flung himself on the grass. "Why can't you tell us all? It would be no end of a lark. Another rumpus with the mother. Is she more cantankerous than ever?"