Jessie was in ecstacies again. Clasping the ornaments on Maddy’s neck and arms, she danced around her, declaring there never was anything more beautiful, or anybody so pretty as Maddy was in her party dress. Maddy was fond of jewelry—and felt a flush of gratified pride, or vanity, or satisfaction, whichever one chooses to call it, as she glanced at herself in the mirror and remembered the time when, riding with the doctor, she had met Mrs. Agnes, with golden bracelets flashing on her arms, and wished she might one day wear something like them. The day had come sooner than she had anticipated, but Maddy was not so happy in possession of the coveted ornaments as she had thought she should be. It seemed to her that _Guy_ ought not to have given them to her, that it was improper for her to keep them, and that both Mrs. Noah and Agnes thought so, too. She wished she knew exactly what was right; and then, remembering that Guy had said the doctor was expected early, she decided to ask his opinion on the subject and abide by it. At first Agnes had cared but little about the party, affecting to despise the people in their immediate neighborhood; but her spirits rose at last; and when her toilet was completed, she shone resplendent in lace and diamonds and curls, managing to retain through all a certain simplicity of dress appropriate to the hostess. But beautiful as Agnes was, she felt in her jealous heart that there was about Maddy Clyde an attraction she did not possess. Guy saw it too, and while complimenting his pretty mother-in-law, kept his eyes fixed admiringly on Maddy, who started him into certain unpleasant remembrances by asking if the doctor had come yet. “No—yes—there he is now;” and Guy looked into the hall, where the doctor’s voice was heard inquiring for him. “I want to see him a minute, alone, please. There’s something I wish to ask him.” And, unmindful of Agnes’s darkened frown, or Guy’s look of wonder, Maddy darted from the room, and ran hastily down to the hall where the doctor stood, waiting for Guy, not for her. He had not expected to meet her thus, or to see her thus, and the sight of her, grown so tall, so womanly and beautiful, almost took his breath away. And yet, as he stood with her hand in his, and surveyed her from head to foot, he felt that he would rather have her as she was when a dainty frill shaded her pale, wasted face, when the snowy ruffle was fastened high about her throat, and the cotton bands were buttoned about her wrists, where golden ones now were shining. The doctor had never forgotten Maddy as she was then, the very embodiment, he thought, of helpless purity. The little sick girl, so dear to him then, was growing away from him now; and these adornings, which marked the budding woman, seemed to remove her from him and place her nearer to Guy, whose bride should wear silk and jewels, just as Maddy did.