This was Bell’s leave-taking, while Sybil’s was, if possible, more friendly, for she took a perverse kind of pleasure in annoying Juno, who wondered “what she or Bell could see to like in that awkward country girl, who she knew had on one of Katy’s cast-off collars, and whose wardrobe was the most ordinary she ever saw; _fitch furs_, think of that!” and Juno gave a little pull at the fastenings of her rich ermine collar, showing so well over her velvet basquine. “Fitch furs or not, they rode with Mark Ray on Broadway,” Bell retorted, with a wicked look in her eye, which roused Juno to a still higher pitch of anger, so that by the time the carriage stopped at No.——, the young lady was in a most unamiable frame of mind as regarded both Helen Lennox and the offending Mark. That evening there was at Mrs. Reynolds’s a little company of thirty or more, and as Mark was present, Juno seized the opportunity of ascertaining, if possible, his real opinion of Helen Lennox, joking him first about his having taken her to ride so soon, and insinuating that he must have a _penchant_ for every new and pretty face. “Then you think her pretty? You have called on her?” Mark replied, his manner evincing so much pleasure that Juno bit her lip to keep down her wrath, and flashing upon him her scornful eyes, replied: “Yes, Sybil and Bell insisted that I should. Of myself I would never have done it, for I have now more acquaintances than I can attend to, and do not care to increase the list. Besides that, I do not imagine that Miss Lennox can in any way add to my happiness, brought up as she has been among the woods and hills, you know.” “Yes, I have been there—to her home, I mean,” Mark rejoined, and Juno continued: “Only for a moment, though. You should have stayed, like Will, to appreciate it fully. I wish you could hear him describe the feather beds on which he slept—that is, describe them before he decided to take Katy; for after that he was chary of his remarks, and the feathers by some marvelous process were changed into hair, for what he knew or cared.” Mark hesitated a moment, and then said, quietly: “I have stayed there all night, and have tested that feather bed, but found nothing disparaging to Helen, who was as much a lady in the farm-house as here in the city.” There was a look of withering scorn on Juno’s face as she replied, “Pray, how long since you took to visiting Silverton so frequently—becoming so familiar as to spend the night?” There was no mistaking the jealousy which betrayed itself in every tone of Juno’s voice as she stood before Mark, a fit picture of the enraged goddess whose name she bore. Soon recollecting herself, however, she changed her mode of attack, and said, laughingly,