"I'm glad to find you looking so amiable," said Elsie, going up to the glass, and threading her curls out into fluffy and beautiful confusion; "for I've thought of something that would make this place delightful, just as you are going away, Grant. Besides," she added, looking down and coloring a little, "people will get such ideas into their heads, and say such things. It is quite necessary to let them see how very happy you and Bessie are together, or they never will believe that you are not running away from her." "What!" demanded Mellen almost sternly,--"What are you saying, Elsie?" "Oh, it's dreadful; I've been crying about it half the night; but a splendid ball, or something of that sort, will put everything on velvet. Nothing like champagne and the _et ceteras_ to stop people's mouths." "A ball! Why, Elsie, what is your mind running on?" "The idea is dreadful, I know; and just as you are leaving us, when every moment is precious as a grain of gold. But it's really necessary. If you go off without seeing people, Grant, they will be sure to say that you and Bessie have quarreled, and all sorts of horrid things about her being melancholy, and you--well it's no use repeating these speeches, but the ball we must have. Bessie shall entertain them like a princess; as for poor little me, I'm good for nothing but dancing." She gave a waltzing step or two, and whirled herself before the mirror again. "Well, who shall we invite?" she said, gazing at the pretty image that smiled back her admiration. "I made out a list this morning in my room; shall I bring it?" She ran into her room and came out again with a handful of engraved cards, some of them already filled in. "I knew, of course, that the ball was to be, so had the cards struck off. Tom Fuller brought them down. Just add what names you please, Bessie, and we will leave the rest to Mrs. Harrington." "Why, Elsie!" began Mrs. Mellen. "Well, what is it?" "How can you think of--" "Oh, it's settled, so don't discuss it. What! looking cross? Why, Grant dear, I--I--did not think you would be offended." "But I am, Elsie." She dropped into a chair, pressed both hands to her side, and shrunk away into a grieved, feeble little thing, that had been crushed by a single blow. "Why, Elsie!" Her eyes filled with tears, and she covered them with both hands. "I am not angry, child, only surprised." "But you will be--you will be very angry when I tell you that some of the invitations are sent out. Oh, I wish I were dead!" Her lips quivered like those of a grieved and half-frightened child. Her cheeks were wet, and their color had left them. "Oh, Grantley, Grantley, don't--don't look at me in that way. Dear Bessie, tell him how sorry I am."