She had eaten with Mrs. Blunt, who was very kind to her, and tried to tempt her appetite with all the daintiest bits upon the table; but the poor child was so sick at heart that she could scarcely swallow a mouthful. When Miss Baker came the next morning, she looked the surprise she felt, as she opened the sewing-room door and saw Star seated within, busily sewing upon the dress she had been making for Josephine the day before. And truly the young girl was a goodly sight to behold. Her beautiful hair had been brushed until it shone like satin, and then gathered into a simple knot at the back of her head—she did not intend to have it cut off, and she had dressed it in this way so as not to attract attention to it—while the clustering locks which fell over her forehead, almost touching her eyebrows, gave a piquant expression to her face. Her eyes were bright, in spite of her “night of tears” and longing for the dear old home and familiar faces over the sea; her cheeks delicately flushed, and the fresh print dress, which fitted her slight, graceful figure perfectly, and which she had so tastefully trimmed, could not have been more becoming if it had been made of the richest materials. “Why, Miss Gladstone, however did you manage to finish your dress, and put so much extra work into it, after I left last night?” the dressmaker asked, with some misgivings about madam’s approval when she should see it. “I managed it because I needed it,” Star answered. “I did not like to put on the dress I wore on the steamer again, it was so soiled and disfigured; and I ruffled it because I like pretty things and have been accustomed to them.” “I am afraid Mrs. Richards will object to so much trimming, for she was particular to mention that it should be ‘plain,’” said Miss Baker, glancing dubiously at the ruffles up and down the front, and at the neck and wrists. Star made no reply to this, but her red lips settled themselves a trifle more firmly, and her small head was lifted with a quick, proud movement, which told that she intended to exercise her own taste as far as she was able in the matter of her own wardrobe. The second morning after her advent at the Richards’ mansion, as she was descending to her breakfast, she suddenly encountered a portly but good-natured looking gentleman on the stairs. She glanced up at him, and was about to pass on with a slight though graceful salutation, when he stopped short and regarded her with surprise. “Halloa! who are you?” he asked, brusquely, yet not unkindly. Star colored a lovely pink, as she replied, modestly: “I am Star—or, I should say, Stella Gladstone.” “Stella—_Star_ Gladstone!” he exclaimed, in surprise. Then he added, with an appreciative glance at her golden head with its dainty forelocks, her great, star-like eyes, and red lips: “That sounds well—very appropriate, too, I should say. When did you arrive? We have been very anxious on your account.” Star’s scarlet lips curled slightly.