"If you and your servant can manage to have the house in order, I'll excuse you from every thing else. The entertainment will be sent in from the confectioners; and waiters will relieve you of all care. You will take your place by me, nominally to receive the company; but I have engaged a lady every way competent, to do it in reality." "Will it be Miss Richmond?" "Yes." "I would rather have had Marion Gilbert. She is so kind and really tries to teach me." The tone was sad and humble; but Paul did not seem to notice it. "I have chosen the one I thought suitable," he replied, "and you will show her proper attention." A spark of the old wilfulness shot from Gertrude's eye as she said: "Perhaps I shall not see her, I may not be present at all." "Just as you please, Mrs. Dudley; but remember if you choose to slight my invited guests, I never will forgive you." She was subdued at once, and with a burst of feeling cried: "Oh, Paul, I never thought you'd treat me so!" The whole day of the party, Gertrude and her good-natured, but awkward Bridget spent in sweeping, dusting, washing glass and polishing silver. When night came, the weary child was more fit to go to bed in a darkened room; and have cold applications to her throbbing temples, than to dress and entertain company. "Do try and get up some color," urged Paul, coming in for the first time since morning. "You look as if you were in the last stages of consumption. I should think you'd have some pride about yourself." At eight the guests began to arrive; and at nine the rooms were crowded. Two or three times when Paul was introducing some one, Gertrude thought she should faint. The room seemed to whirl about in a most unpleasant manner; and once she was obliged to catch hold of a chair for support. She knew her husband was angry with her, from the occasional glances he gave her, and she longed to be by herself and have a good cry. Miss Richmond stood near her, talking gayly with every one who came up; entirely ignoring the young wife's presence; and rendering the contrast between them as great as possible. When the refreshments were passed around, Gertrude sick and giddy, declined the offer of one and another to bring her cake, fruit or ices. She was ignorant that etiquette required her, at least, to toy with her spoon; and did not understand why so many gazed at her, standing unemployed. Presently Paul caught a glimpse of her and seizing a glass of vanilla-ice said aloud: "Excuse me, Gertrude, I thought you were supplied." Her countenance lighted with the attention, and without thought of harm, she said: "My head aches so badly, I have no appetite." "Take it," he muttered under his breath; and without another word returned to Miss Richmond's side.