"You don't. It's Dolly!" Ruth declared. "Dolly-Dulcinea, I have changed my mind. I did not want to go this morning; I did not want to go this noon. But, at half-past five o'clock precisely, I knew that I must go or perish! Nothing shall keep me away." And, gayly waving her hand to her sister, she went into the music-room, which opened from the larger apartment, and, seating herself at the piano, began to play. Chase returned to his reading; his only comment to Dolly was, "She seems to _look_ pretty well." And it was true that Ruth looked not only well, but brilliant. After a while they heard her begin to sing: "My short and happy day is done; The long and dreary night comes on; And at my door the Pale Horse stands, To carry me to unknown lands. "His whinny shrill, his pawing hoof, Sound dreadful as a gathering storm; And I must leave this sheltering roof, And joys of life so soft and warm." "_Don't_ sing that!" called Dolly, sharply. "Why not let her do as she likes?" suggested Chase, in the conciliatory tone he often adopted with Dolly. To him all songs were the same; he could not tell one from the other. At this moment Malachi Hill entered, with his arms full of roses. "Long stalks?" said Ruth, hurrying to meet him. "Lovely! Now you shall help me make my posy. What shall I bring home for you in my pocket, Mr. Hill? Ice-cream?" "Well, the truth is I am thinking of going myself," answered Malachi, coloring a little. "It has been mentioned to me that I ought to go--as a representative of the clergy. It is not in the least a ball, they tell me; it is a reception--a reception to General Grant. The young people may perhaps dance a little; but not until after the general's departure." "Capital idea," said Chase, adding a fourth to his pile of perused sheets on the floor. "And don't go back on us, Hill, by proposing to escort some one else. Ruth wants to make an impression on the general, and, three abreast, perhaps we can do it." Suddenly Ruth went to her sister. "Dolly, you must go too. Now don't say a word. You can go early and have a good seat; and as to dress, you can wear your opera-cloak." "Oh no--" began Dolly. But Ruth stopped her. "You must. I want you to _see_ me there." "Well, who's conceited, I'd like to know?" commented Chase, as he read on. But Ruth's face wore no expression of conceit; its expression was that of determination. With infinite relief Dolly saw this. "I'll go," she said, comprehending Ruth's wish.