“Fair little mamma, that is not generous or even just!” said Frank, in a tone of rebuke, tempered by affectionate playfulness. “Don’t let’s imitate the philosophical fox in the fable, nor call sour these most luscious of grapes hung far above my reach. Margaret owed me no faith. My aspiration gave me no claim upon her consideration. She is a noble girl, and ‘blistered be my tongue’ if ever it say otherwise. Henceforth, for me, she is my brother’s wife, no more, nor less,” said the young man, swallowing the sob that had risen in his throat and nearly choked him. “Oh, my dear Franky! my very heart bleeds for you,” said Nellie, with the tears streaming down her face; for if the little lady had one deep, sincere affection in the world, it was for her “pretty boy,” as, to the young man’s ludicrous annoyance, she still called him. But Frank wiped her tears away and kissed her. And the next moment Nellie was talking gayly of the party she had invited to do honor to his return home. This festival fixed for Christmas was intended to come off the next afternoon. There was to be a dinner followed by an evening party. As the family were still in mourning for Mrs. Helmstedt, dancing was prohibited; but the evening was laid off to be employed in tea-drinking, parlor games, cards, and conversation. Mrs. Houston, as far as the contradictory nature of her sentiments would permit, took some pride in the beauty, wealth, and social importance of her “daughter” Margaret; and experienced quite a fashionable, mamma-like solicitude for her favorable appearance upon the evening in question. Therefore, without ever having had any altercation with the pensive and unwilling girl upon the subject of her toilet, Nellie, on the morning of Christmas day, entered Margaret’s little boudoir, accompanied by Jessie Bell, bringing a packet. Margaret, who sat by the fire quietly reading, looked up, smiled, and invited her visitor to be seated. “I have not time to sit down, Maggie; all those cakes are to be frosted yet; the jellies are waiting to be poured into the moulds; the cream has yet to be seasoned and put in the freezers; flowers cut in the greenhouse for the vases; and I know not what else besides. Here, Christmas Day, of all days in the year, that I should be working harder than any slave,” said the little lady. “I had no idea that you were so busy. Pray let me and Hildreth assist you. We are both skillful, you know. Please always let me know when I or my servants can be of any use to you, Mrs. Houston,” said Miss Helmstedt, laying aside her book and rising. “Nonsense, my dear, I don’t really need your services or I should call upon you. I came in to bring you a Christmas gift. Your foolish little mother-in-law, whom you refuse to call ‘mamma,’ has not forgotten you. Jessie, open that box.” The waiting-maid obeyed, and drew from it a rich black velvet evening dress, made with a low corsage and short sleeves, and both neck and sleevelets trimmed with point lace.