"You prepared this sweet surprise for me," said Mabel, turning to Isabel. "Oh, thank you, thank you, dear." And the tears stood in Mabel's eyes as she stooped and kissed her cousin. "It is foolish, you will think," said Mabel, hastily brushing the tears aside, "but this has made me think of mamma; it is just the sort of thing she would have done. I shall always love this room now, and think of your welcome to me here." "I want you to tell me about your mother by and by. Papa says she is such a noble woman," said Isabel. "Well, this room is like her. I could almost fancy she had been here getting it ready for me," said Mabel. But Isabel shook her head. "I got it ready," she said, "all but lighting the fire, and the housemaid did that." "Yes, dear, I know none but loving hands could have made everything look so nice. Do you think we might have a cup of tea together here, instead of going down-stairs?" she ventured to ask. "We will have it in the next room. See, this is our sitting-room," and she led the way through an opposite door into a larger room beyond. "My bed-room is on the opposite side, and opens into this, the same as yours. Julia used to have your room. But since she has grown up, and goes to so many parties and balls, and don't learn lessons, she has a room near mamma, with a dressing-room to herself." "And this is where we shall learn our lessons," said Mabel, gazing round the handsomely-furnished room, almost equal to their drawing-room at home, with its pictures and piano, and vases of fresh-cut flowers. "Do you like lessons?" asked Isabel. Mabel was a little puzzled how to answer the question. At length she said, "I don't think I do—at least, not now, for I want to be of some use in the world. I want to go abroad and be a missionary by and by, and I sha'n't want any fine learning to teach the heathen to read the Bible." "No, I suppose not," said Isabel, with a little gasping sigh, and looking at Mabel with something like awe, as she thought of her exalted aims. "I am afraid I have never thought about the heathen," she added. "Perhaps you will tell me about them by and by." But Mabel was busy examining a watercolour sketch on the wall, and did not notice her cousin's question. "This is very pretty," she said—"I am so fond of drawing and painting. Is it yours?" "No, that is one of Julia's. Nothing of mine will ever be worth framing, I am afraid, for I like music best, and care very little for sketching. But I am glad you like it, for it will give Mr. Gibson so much pleasure to teach you." "Oh, shall I really have lessons in painting too?" exclaimed Mabel. And then she seated herself in a low luxurious chair by the fire, and gave herself up to the enjoyment of her surroundings, while Isabel went to ask that tea might be brought up to their own room.