Mabel and Isabel heard every word, as they sat in the school-room, and they looked at each other in blank disappointment. "Let me see it—let me see what Julia has chosen!" exclaimed Mabel, in her usual impulsive fashion, almost forgetting her manners in her excitement. The gentleman placed the music in her hand. "It is very beautiful for those who can understand it," he said in a grave tone. He knew that not one person in a dozen could appreciate this sonata, and that in a mixed company, such as Mrs. Randolph would gather round her, its beauties would be utterly thrown away. "It is very difficult," said Mabel, scanning the intricate passages with some dismay. "Yes, it is difficult," assented the music-master, "but I think if you give it careful study, you will be able to manage it." "Will you play it over for us first?" asked Isabel. "I want to know what it is like." The gentleman sat down to the piano and played the piece through. "I don't like it much—I don't understand it," frankly confessed Isabel when he rose for Mabel to sit down and begin to practise it. Mabel said nothing, but the tears rose to her eyes and she could scarcely see the notes as she laid her fingers on the keys. "Julia is afraid I should play too well, I suppose," she said after she had stumbled through the first few bars. It would be impossible to play this properly she thought, and a bitter feeling rose in her heart against both her aunt and elder cousin. "Never mind, dear," said Isabel soothingly, after the music-master had gone and they were left to themselves. "I think I shall like it better as I begin to understand it." "I don't care a bit who likes it or dislikes it, I 'will' play it properly," said Mabel fiercely. And she sat down to the piano again to go over the more difficult passages. But all the pleasure and delight in the music practice was gone, and the bitter feeling against Julia grew and intensified. If she ever thought of the old lady's rendering of the parable of the sower, she put away the thought and nourished the weeds and tares that were so rapidly growing in her heart. So much attention was given now to her music that she forgot all about the question of dress for this important occasion, until Isabel one day asked her what she was going to wear. "Going to wear!" repeated Mabel. "Oh, dear, I forgot all about that!" And she suddenly remembered that her blue silk was beginning to look decidedly soiled. "I must write to mamma, I suppose," she said with a sigh, wishing she had never heard of this musical party, for she knew her mother had no money to spare to buy her a suitable dress.