"Here I am. Are you tired of waiting for me?" she exclaimed, in a tone of enforced cheerfulness, almost before she opened the door; and then she started back, and a little cry of surprise and pleasure broke from her lips at the changed aspect of the garret. The scene was certainly unique. The rickety table, covered with an old red shawl of Queenie's, was drawn close to the bed; two candles, one green and the other yellow, burnt cheerily in two broken medicine bottles; a few late-blooming roses in a soap-dish gave an air of elegance to the whole. A bottle of ginger wine, and various delicacies in the shape of meat pies, tarts, and large sticky Bath buns, were tastefully arranged at intervals, flanked by a pocket corkscrew, a pen-knife, tumbler, and small tin plate. Emmie, propped up with pillows and huddled up in a warm plaid belonging to Cathy, regarded this magnificent feast with bright-eyed astonishment; she clapped her hands at the sight of her sister. "Oh, Queenie, I am so glad you have come. Everything is ready now, only Cathy has gone down to fetch something; she has been planning this delightful surprise all day. Is it not kind of her?" "Listeners never hear any good of themselves, so I had better make my appearance," interposed a laughing voice, at which Queenie turned hastily round. "Oh, Cathy, Cathy, whatever should we do without you!" she cried, looking gratefully at her friend. Cathy's eyes grew a little moist, and then she broke into a low musical laugh delicious to hear. "Have I not done it well?" rocking herself with merriment. "Not a creature suspects anything. I shall go down presently and pretend to eat supper. Are not those candles lovely, Queenie? they make this dismal old room quite cheerful. There, wrap yourself up in my sealskin, while I help Emmie." "Isn't it lovely!" sighed Emmie, in a tone of such heartfelt happiness, that Cathy hugged her on the spot. The cakes, the meat pie, the ginger wine seemed enchanted food to her; the roses, the colored candles, were perfectly radiant in her eyes. "It is just like a fairy story. You are our good fairy, Cathy," she cried; "I am sure I love you next best in the world to Queenie." "How I wish Garth could see us!" laughed Cathy. She had enveloped herself in an old grey plaid, and had put one of the roses in her hair, and with her dark hair and eyes looked not unlike a gipsy. "Langley would be dreadfully shocked, but Garth would laugh first and lecture afterwards." "You are always talking about Garth; I wish I could see him," sighed Emmie. "You never make us see him, Cathy." Cathy pondered a moment. "It is not easy to describe people with whom you live; one is afraid of being too much prejudiced in their favor. I don't think I am wrong in calling Garth handsome, because every one says so."