There was little need of this caution, for Mrs. Banker understood human nature too well to divulge a matter which might wound one as sensitive as Helen. Between the latter and herself there was a strong bond of friendship, and to the kind patronage of this lady Helen owed most of the attentions she had as yet received from her sister’s friends, while Mark Ray did much toward lifting her to the place she held in spite of the common country dress, which Juno unsparingly criticised, and which, in fact, kept Wilford from taking her out as his wife so often asked him to do. And Helen, too, keenly felt the difference between herself and those with whom she came in contact, crying over it more than once, but never dreaming of the surprise in store for her, when on Christmas morning she went as usual to Katy’s room, finding her alone, her face all aglow with excitement, and her bed a perfect show-case of dry goods, which she bade Helen examine and say how she liked them. Wilford was no niggard with his money, and when Katy had asked for more it had been given unsparingly, even though he knew the purpose to which it was to be applied. “Oh, Katy, Katy, why did you do it?” Helen cried, her tears falling like rain through the fingers she clasped over her eyes. “You are not angry?” Katy said, in some dismay, as Helen continued to sob without looking at the handsome furs, the stylish hat, the pretty cloak, and rich patterns of blue and black silk, which Mrs. Banker had selected. “No, oh no!” Helen replied. “I know it was all meant well; but there is something in me which rebels against taking this from Wilford, and placing myself under so great obligation to him.”