The weather had been close and warm for several days, and the deep shade of the trees upon the lawn and the cooling ripple of the water beyond had entered into the picture everyone had drawn of the projected garden party. But on the morning of that day, a cold east wind set in, and dashes of rain fell about noon--then the sky grew leaden from having been gusty and mottled, and though no more rain fell, the wind was as raw as November, and the chill was something that ate to one's very marrow. A garden party! the very idea became grotesque. A warming-pan party, a chimney-corner party, a range, a furnace-party, would all have been more to the purpose. But people came, and shivered and looked blue. They huddled together in the house, where fires were lighted, and gazed out of windows at the cold water and the dreary lawn. A few daring spirits braved the blast, and went out to play lawn-tennis and a little feeble archery. But their courage did not keep them long at it in gauze de Chambery and India mull. One by one they dropped away and came shaking back into the house. Mrs. Smatter was quite above being affected by the weather. She expected to hold high carnival with the painters and the architect, who were of course presented to her at once. The composer, a grim, dark man, looking like a Mexican cut-throat, held off. He preferred young women, and did not care to talk about Wagner out of office hours. The architect was a mild young person, not at all used to society, and he very soon broke down. Mrs. Smatter was a little agitated by this, and did not discriminate between her painters; she talked about the surface muscles to the landscape man, and about cloud effects to the figure painter. This confused everybody, and they severally bowed themselves away as soon as they could, and Mrs. Smatter ever after spoke with great contempt of the culture of Yellowcoats. She was obliged to content herself with the doctor and the rector, who did not dare to go away while she was asking them questions and giving them information, which she never ceased doing till the entertainment ended. As to Missy, the whole thing was such a vexation and disappointment she scarcely knew how to bear it. The bright fires and the flowers, and the well-ordered entertainment redeemed it somewhat, but it remained a burlesque upon a garden party, and would never be what it was meant to be. The people from next door had come--Miss Flora in a new gown, and the mother all beaming in a bonnet crowned with buttercups; Mr. Andrews very silent and a trifle awkward. There were too many people to make it necessary to say many words to them when they came in, and they were presently scattered among the crowd.