She was quite as wild over the Church Sociable as the Hampstead ladies were over the party, which came off the 10th of October, and was a grand affair. The night was soft and warm as June, and though there was no moon the lanterns in the trees and on the pedestals lighted up the grounds sufficiently to show their beauty, and make it pleasant to walk about in them. The house itself was ablaze with light, and brilliant with rare and costly flowers, while the band played several sweet airs before the guests began to arrive. In her room upstairs Edith stood dressed in her bridal robes, and looking more beautiful than she had upon her wedding day, for her cheeks were rounder now, with a soft, delicate pink showing through the dazzling white, while her eyes had in them a new brightness, and shone like the diamonds Norah was clasping on her neck and arms. “Oh, how lovely you are,” Norah said, when the last touch was given to her mistress’s toilet, and she stood back to admire her. Then after a moment’s hesitancy, she added: “There is a little girl down stairs dying to see you, ma’am, in your party dress, Gertie Westbrooke. My cousin is here assisting, you know, and brought the child. Would you mind her coming up the back way just to look at you?” “Certainly not,” Edith replied; and in a few moments Gertie came in, her face glowing and sparkling with delight as she saw the beautiful woman standing before the long mirror, decked in satin and lace and diamonds, her golden brown hair curled as she used to wear it in her girlhood, and falling over a comb behind. “Oh, my lady! oh, Mrs. Schuyler, you ought to be the queen, only you are a thousand times handsomer than she!” Gertie cried, clasping her hands together, while tears started to her eyes and dropped from her eyelashes. “Why, child, what is the matter? What makes you cry?” Edith asked, and Gertie replied: “I don’t know, I always cry when I see a beautiful picture or hear the grand music and the band playing outside, and the house and grounds lighted up, and you so glorious. I can’t help it. Oh, if I only were rich, and could go with the people below!” “Poor child,” Edith said softly, as she laid her hand on the wavy hair of the little girl. “You might not be as happy as you are now, and then if you were rich you are too young to attend a party of this kind.” “Yes, I know,” Gertie answered; “but I like fine dresses, and things, and people, and I do wish I might some day be dressed just like you, and stand where you do with my train so long behind me, and I waiting for somebody.” “Gertie,” the lady said, after a moment’s reflection, “the guests are to remove their wraps in the large room opposite, and by sitting in that chair and turning the gas down you can see them as they pass. Would you like it?” “Yes, so much,” was the eager reply, and just then the colonel came for his bride to lead her to the drawing-room.