There was very little to attract any one in the little maiden’s bower, and yet it had a cozy, home-like air about it; but her scant wardrobe, as Josephine opened the closet door to look within, appeared very mean in the petted and indulged beauty’s eyes; and, indeed, it compared very unfavorably with the pretty outfit which had gone down on the ill-fated vessel on which Star had sailed. “It is a mystery to me how she manages always to look so nice with these few traps,” Miss Richards muttered, as she shut the door with a sign of disgust and turned to leave the room. “Ha! what have we here?” she cried, as she caught sight of a new, prettily bound book lying on the small table. “Oh, this is that new novel that I heard Charlie Carpenter raving about the other evening. I wonder where _she_ got it. I think I’ll appropriate it myself; it looks inviting,” she added, slipping the leaves through her fingers. “Chatsworth’s Pride,” she continued, turning to the title page. “I should like to know who wrote it; but the author’s name is not given. However, I’ll read it, and see if it is as wonderful as Charlie said.” It was not a large book, and dropping it into her pocket, this “Paul Pry” in petticoats stole from Star’s little bower and glided unobserved to her own room, having accomplished her object in securing the coveted cameo, and vented her spite upon the offending girl for having dared to outshine her in the presence of her father. Later, when Star went up to her little sanctum and found both pin and book gone, she surmised at once who had been there. The loss of the book she did not mind so much, although she was reading it and had been obliged to lay it aside in the midst of a most interesting chapter; while she knew that when Josephine had read it she would doubtless throw it one side, and she could easily get it again. But to lose the cameo—that precious gift of kind, handsome Archibald Sherbrooke—was more than she could bear with either patience or fortitude, and a passion of tears testified to her grief for her loss. She knew that it would be useless to appeal to Josephine for it; she could not _prove_ that she had taken it, and she would doubtless feign astonishment and innocence if questioned regarding it, and unless she could regain possession of it by strategy, it was, she feared, lost to her forever. A week subsequently the family repaired to their country residence at Yonkers, where they usually spent the hot months, excepting a few weeks’ sojourn at some fashionable watering-place or mountain resort. Here Star, who had been told that she was to have the use of the music-room whenever she wished, began her work in earnest, and gave six hours a day to hard, faithful practice.