"Yes," said Lucy, "I think so too.--O, my silver teaspoon!" Grace and Isa were also talking in confidence. In spite of the lost baskets Isa "walked on thrones." "So queer, Gracie, what she said about Cassy Hallock!" "O, Isa, I believe she's the Witch of Endor." "Now, Grace Clifford, I'll tell you how Cassy slanders you, only you can't make me say where I heard it. A forward little miss, she says, you are, always speaking up when you aren't spoken to. Mighty grand you feel. Right vain of your hair, she says; but it's not auburn--it's fire-red." "Why, Isa Harrington," cried Grace, breathless with surprise, "Panoria Swan has fire-red hair. I'll leave it to you--does it look a speck like mine?" "Dear me, no, indeed, Gracie. Nobody ever dreamed of such an idea but just Cassy. But that's not all, nor half. She says her ma don't like her to go with you so much. There, that's all I'll tell." "Isa Harrington, I can't believe one word of that last part," said Grace, indignantly; "it's a mistake, and you may take it back." "I can't take back the sober, solemn, honest truth," returned Isa, firmly. "Seems to me Cassy's changed amazingly, then," said Grace, with a quivering voice. "Hasn't she seemed rather odder since the oyster party, Gracie? I mean Mrs. Hallock?" "Why, no," said Grace, hesitating; "no, indeed! Let me see: once or twice she wouldn't let Cassy go home with me farther than the acorn-tree; but that was because she must have her mind the baby.--Here we are at home." Grace was not ready to believe that her friend and her friend's mother were both so treacherous; still, she entered the house in a state of much perplexity. CHAPTER VII. THE REGARD-RING. Mrs. Clifford wondered why her daughter should return from a picnic so eager for supper. "Why, ma, we lost every single thing we carried to eat." "Lost it! What, not all your five baskets?" "Yes, ma," replied Grace, uneasily; "that's the solemn truth." Mrs. Clifford was naturally surprised. "But, ma, it's a secret. Don't ask me to break my promise, please. Some time, may be, I'll tell you. I will when I can." At the tea-table, Horace's curiosity was very active. He wanted to know where the girls spread out their picnic, what games they played, and would have gone on with his trying questions if Mrs. Clifford had not kindly come to her daughter's relief, and turned the boy's attention to something else. Grace was grateful to her mother, but a sense of guilt weighed heavily on her mind. She had sunk very low in her own esteem, and envied little Horace the innocent frankness with which he dared look people in the face. Added to these twinges of conscience, Grace was in a state of wretched doubt regarding Cassy. What charm would be left in this bleak world, she thought, if this only friend should prove false!