We cannot give all Rose’s letter, as it was a long one, but must hurry over her return, and bring her home in time for Minnie’s ball, as the whole house called it. The dear absentee arrived in the midst of the preparations, at the time appointed. Mr. de la Croix wished to celebrate her happy return among them with Minnie’s debut, and there was no end to the joy of the sisters as they all met together once more in the room wherein Rose’s boxes and trunks had been carried. Mr. Linden was there with a hammer, which he swung over their heads, as he called out where he was to begin, and the door opened to admit Mr. de la Croix, Kenneth, and Harry Selby’s uncle. Minnie had promised, he said, that he should choose her costume upon this great occasion, and here he was, to do his duty conscientiously. He was gladly welcomed, and Paul fell to work on a large _caisse_, according to Rose’s directions. The lid flew off and revealed a very mysterious covering of white paper, which they proceeded to remove, and Lisa’s nice hands were called upon to take out the beautiful dresses that lay so lightly one upon the other. “Beautiful!” they cried, as a blue tarlatan of the most delicate shade was held up. “Exquisite! Who is this for?” “For Lisa,” said Rose, displaying its beauties; “and I have the most unexceptionable bouquets of pink moss roses for the looping of the skirt, sleeves, and one for the bosom. Now that white dress is for Blanche—my Lady Blanche—and the two rose-colored for Minnie and myself. All have flowers to trim alike. You will find Kate’s in the other box—there was no room for it in this one.” “Here is another white one,” said Minnie, who had danced around the room in a perfect glee. “Whose is it?” “That is yours also, Minnie,” answered Rose, with an affectionate smile. “You will want more than one ball-dress, my little debutante. Then—here Paul! Paul! to your duty—open this box. Mr. Selby! you have something to do with this, sir.” All eyes turned to him as he came forward with a queer smile from the window at which he and Mr. de la Croix sat looking on, and enjoying the scene of gayety and confusion that passed before them. “What have I to do with boxes, my pretty Rose,” inquired he. “I sent for no coats or pantaloons?” “But you sent for the contents of this box, Mr. Selby,” said she, nodding her head significantly. “What they are, I know not; but Harry asked me to let it come on with my baggage, as it was yours, and to be opened at Oakwood. So here it is, and as _I_ have some curiosity about it, I call upon this self-constituted carpenter to gratify it.”