"I want more than one," returned Richard, growing bold. Bessie's readiness to please, her good-humored reception of his criticism, charmed him. She was so amiable, so willing to be friendly; she was so different from the other girls who came to The Grange. Richard had no patience with them; their airs and graces, their evident desire for masculine admiration disgusted and repelled him. They seemed always seeking for him to pay them little compliments and attentions, and in his heart he despised them. "Thank you, my dear," observed Mrs. Sefton graciously, when Bessie had finished. "She sings very nicely, does she not, Edna?" "Charmingly," replied Edna; but her smile was hardly as pleased as usual, and she bade Bessie a somewhat cold good-night when they parted an hour later. CHAPTER XI. EDNA HAS A GRIEVANCE. Bessie did not concern herself much about her friend's coldness. She had tried to atone to Richard for his sister's unkindness, and she had succeeded in giving one person pleasure. "I dare say her conscience tells her that she has been naughty, and that makes her cross with me," thought Bessie, who was too healthy minded to harbor unnecessary scruples. Hatty would have made herself wretched under the circumstances; would have accused herself of boldness, and love of display, and a want of consideration for Edna; for Hatty, who was a self-tormentor by nature, could spin a whole web of worries out of a single thread; but Bessie never troubled herself with morbid after-thoughts. "Edna will be all right with me to-morrow," she said to herself; and she was right in her prognostication. Edna came downstairs the next morning radiant with good humor, and was even civil to Richard. It was a brilliant day; her friends had all accepted her invitation, and she was looking forward to a most enjoyable afternoon. It was impossible for Bessie to resist the influence of her friend's gayety and flow of spirits. Edna's example was infectious, and Bessie was soon laughing heartily at her nonsensical speeches. There was no quiet for reading that morning. She had to practice tennis with Edna, and help her arrange the flowers; and finally she was carried off to be made smart. "I wish you had a white dress, too," observed Edna regretfully; for in her heart she thought Bessie's favorite gray gown very dowdy and Quakerish. "But we must try to enliven you with a few flowers. You are going to wear a gray hat. Wait a moment." And Edna darted out of the room, and returned a moment afterward with a dainty cream lace fichu. "Look, this lace is lovely! Mamma gave it to me, but I never wear it now, and it will just suit you. Now let me fasten in a few of those creamy roses. Well, you do look nice after all, Daisy dear."