Mrs. Frederick Langford thought herself well recompensed for the pain her resolution had cost her, by the pleasure that Mr. and Mrs. Langford evidently took in her son and daughter, by the brightness of her two children’s own faces, and especially when Henrietta murmured in her sleep something about “delightful,” “bright leaves and red berries,” and then, “and ‘tis for my own dear papa.” And after all, in the attainment of their fondest wish, were Henrietta and Frederick as serenely happy as she was? CHAPTER VI. Christmas Eve, which was also a Saturday, dawned brightly on Henrietta, but even her eagerness for her new employment could not so far overcome her habitual dilatoriness as not to annoy her cousin, Busy Bee, even to a degree of very unnecessary fidgeting when there was any work in hand. She sat on thorns all breakfast time, devoured what her grandpapa called a sparrow’s allowance, swallowed her tea scalding, and thereby gained nothing but leisure to fret at the deliberation with which Henrietta cut her bread into little square dice, and spread her butter on them as if each piece was to serve as a model for future generations. The subject of conversation was not precisely calculated to soothe her spirits. Grandmamma was talking of giving a young party--a New-year’s party on Monday week, the second of January. “It would be pleasant for the young people,” she thought, “if Mary did not think it would be too much for her.” Beatrice looked despairingly at her aunt, well knowing what her answer would be, that it would not be at all too much for her, that she should be very glad to see her former neighbours, and that it would be a great treat to Henrietta and Fred. “We will have the carpet up in the dining-room,” added Mrs. Langford, “and Daniels, the carpenter, shall bring his violin, and we can get up a nice little set for a dance.” “O thank you, grandmamma,” cried Henrietta eagerly, as Mrs. Langford looked at her. “Poor innocent, you little know!” murmured Queen Bee to herself. “That is right, Henrietta,” said Mrs. Langford, “I like to see young people like young people, not above a dance now and then,--all in moderation.” “Above dancing,” said grandpapa, who, perhaps, took this as a reflection on his pet, Queen Bee, “that is what you call being on the high rope, isn’t it?” Beatrice, though feeling excessively savage, could not help laughing. “Are you on the high rope, Queenie?” asked Fred, who sat next to her: “do you despise the light fantastic--?” “I don’t know: I do not mind it much,” was all she could bring herself to say, though she could not venture to be more decidedly ungracious before her father. “Not much in itself,” she added, in a lower tone, as the conversation grew louder, “it is the people, Philip Carey, and all,--but hush! listen.”