Her radiant face clouded; it seemed almost like an omen of evil to have her anticipations of pleasure broken in upon thus. “I am going to New York to take my music lesson,” she answered, touching the roll underneath her arm. “Do you always dress yourself out like that to take your music lesson? Perhaps you are trying to strike up a flirtation with Professor What’s-his-name,” sneered the haughty beauty. Poor Star glanced down at her offending dress, an indignant flush rising to her cheek. The entire cost of it had been less than what Josephine was accustomed to pay for even a pair of shoes; and yet she knew, without being told, that the gay belle, with all her expensive trappings, had never looked half so fresh and lovely as she did at that moment. Josephine realized it also, and her heart was filled with bitter envy and malice. “Go back up stairs and change your gown,” she continued, angrily, without giving Star an opportunity to reply to her taunting remarks. “You have no business to go to the city, dressed as if you were going to a party.” Star’s small head came up like a flash of light; her eyes darkened and glowed with a sense of wounded pride and injustice. She stood still a moment, her scarlet lips compressed until only a narrow line of red was visible; then, in a calm, clear, but very decided tone, she said: “You have no right to lay such commands upon me, Miss Richards, and I shall not obey you.” “You insolent beggar! what do you mean by answering me in this way?” began the astonished girl; but Star had glided down the steps, and was walking with a proud, elastic step down the avenue; consequently her rage was expended upon the empty air. But she was fairly startled by the exquisite loveliness of the young girl. She had never seen her dressed with so much care before, and had not dreamed of having such a rival in her own dwelling. Mr. Rosevelt was standing on the porch of the lodge when Star came along, and he, too, marveled at her exceeding beauty, saying to himself that he had never seen her so brilliant and spirited before. And, indeed, he had not, for she never had been so thoroughly aroused before during all her residence in Mrs. Richards’ family. “Good-morning, Uncle Jacob,” she said, brightly, as she saw him standing there, and her indignation immediately began to subside. What was Josephine Richards that she should allow her to mar all the pleasure of her own holiday?—that she should drive the happiness from her heart, the sunlight from her face, when she was going to spend long hours of delight in Archibald Sherbrooke’s presence? Nothing, save a coarse, rude girl, devoid of feeling or refinement; and with a resolute effort she drove her from her thoughts, the smile returned to her red lips, the light to her eye, as she ran lightly up the steps and stood beside Mr. Rosevelt.