A few mornings after Star’s emancipation from her duties as a servant, she encountered, as she was coming down stairs to her breakfast, Josephine, who was also on her way to the dining-room. “Well, I suppose you feel mighty set up over the fine show you made of yourself the other day,” that young lady remarked, sneeringly. “I had no desire to make a ‘show,’ as you express it,” Star answered, courteously, and ignoring her companion’s rudeness. “But it is always pleasant to receive thanks when one has tried to do one’s best.” “Thanks!” was the scornful rejoinder. “You have been very sly about it all; and I should think you’d feel mean enough about wheedling papa into giving you music and painting lessons.” “I have never asked Mr. Richards for either, and—I am not going to take painting lessons at all,” Star said, with scarlet cheeks. “You needn’t try to make me think papa would ever have made such a row if you hadn’t been at him and pretended to be so abused and ill-treated. But—where did you get that lovely cameo that you wore in that knot at your throat?” Josephine asked, her eyes having been sharp enough to detect the pretty trinket. “It was given to me by a friend,” the young girl answered, with trembling lips, for she was cut to the heart by the unjust accusations heaped upon her. “Some one must have liked to fool away money pretty well, to give you an elegant trifle like that,” the rude girl said, for she had known that it was valuable at a glance. “It doesn’t correspond with the rest of your wardrobe,” she continued, jeeringly; “you’d better give it to me.” Star looked up into the bold, handsome face beside her with astonishment. “I cannot give it to you,” she said, with compressed lips. “Well, _lend_ it to me, then.” She was loaded with jewelry, early as it was in the day. She wore a heavy gold chain, from which was suspended a blue enameled locket set with pearls and diamonds; heavy jewels hung in her ears, broad bands of gold clasped her wrists, while her fingers gleamed with numerous costly gems; and here she was coveting the single ornament which she had seen Star wear. “I do not like to appear disobliging,” she returned, “but there are reasons why I do not even like to lend it.” “What reasons, pray, can you have for refusing so simple a request?” Josephine persisted. “I have told you—it is the gift of a friend. I do not like to part with it.” “I will give you this handsome emerald for it,” said the spoilt beauty, turning a valuable ring upon her finger. “Thank you. No; I could not make the exchange.” “Nonsense! You’re stuffy enough, I hope,” the refined young lady retorted; and, with lowering brow, she turned impatiently away, and went into the dining-room.