Mabel murmured something about hearing all that before, but the fact was, she did not like to be reminded of the old woman's lesson just now. It brought to her mind too vividly the conversation she had had with her mother upon worldliness, and she knew she was growing worldly. But she persuaded herself that she could not help it. Julia and her aunt were to blame for that. At length the day for the party arrived, and she surveyed herself in her new dress with no small complacency. Isabel was in raptures over her. "Papa will be pleased when he sees you," she exclaimed. "I declare you look quite beautiful. Now, let me put this rose in your hair, just to finish you off. There! Now you will do, and you may begin to think about the music. Oh, Mabel! Papa will have a treat to-night for there will be some very sweet music, so many good players are to be here. I shall just settle down in some quiet corner, and give myself up to enjoy everything." And in truth it seemed that Isabel, in her self-forgetfulness, could and did "enjoy everything." The envyings, and jealousies, and rivalries that had sprung up between her sister and cousin never touched her—she knew nothing even of their existence. Julia was "disagreeable sometimes, she knew," and Mabel "worried herself" about her music, but that these two were cherishing such feelings as they did, she had not the slightest comprehension. She believed that everybody coming there was bent upon enjoying the music and each other's society, and she hoped that when Mabel had got through her task, she would be ready to enjoy herself too. She could understand her feeling anxious and nervous until this was over, but she could not understand the frown that rested on her cousin's face when, having at length played her piece, she came and sat down beside her. "What is the matter, dear?" she whispered, slipping her hand into Mabel's. "Need you ask?" said Mabel fiercely. "I knew how it would be." "But—but I thought you played very well, indeed," exclaimed Isabel. "What did it matter how I played in such a babel? Everybody began talking after the first few bars. If I could have had the piece I first chose, everybody would have listened instead of chattering." "But papa listened and enjoyed it, dear, and I would not mind about the rest." In truth, Isabel would not have minded. To have given pleasure to one person would have satisfied her meek little heart. And if that one had forgotten to applaud or appreciate her efforts, it would have made no difference to her. But not so Mabel. She had failed to score a triumph, and felt that she had been defeated, and so she sat stolid and indifferent beside her cousin, making no reply to her pleasant speeches. She was not the only one who could justly complain of the "babel." And under cover of the general chatter, Isabel at length made another effort to rouse her cousin to a more animated interest in the scene.