“It was a pleasure for him to do it,” Katy said, trying to reassure her sister, until she grew calm enough to examine and admire the Christmas gifts upon which no expense had been spared. Much as we may ignore dress, and sinful as is an inordinate love for it, there is yet about it an influence for good, when the heart of the wearer is right, holding it subservient to all higher, holier affections. At least Helen Lennox found it so, when clad in her new garments, she drove with Mrs. Banker, or returned Sybil Grandon’s call, feeling that there was about her nothing for which Katy need to blush, or even Wilford, who was not afraid to be seen with her now, and Helen, while knowing the reason of the change, did not feel like quarreling with him for it, but accepted with a good-natured grace all that made her life in New York so happy. With Bell Cameron she was on the best of terms; while Sybil Grandon, always going with the tide, professed for her an admiration, which, whether fancied or real, did much toward making her popular; and when, as the mistress of her brother’s house, she issued cards of invitation for a large party, she took especial pains to insist upon Helen’s attending, even if Katy was not able. But from this Helen shrank. She could not meet so many strangers alone, she said, and so the matter was dropped, until Mrs. Banker offered to chaperone her, when Helen began to waver, changing her mind at last and promising to go. Never since the days of _her_ first party had Katy been so wild with excitement as she was in helping to dress Helen, who scarcely knew herself when, before the mirror, with the blaze of the chandelier falling upon her, she saw the picture of a young girl arrayed in rich pink silk, with an overskirt of lace, and the light pretty cloak, just thrown upon her uncovered neck, where Katy’s pearls were shining. “What would they say at home if they could only see you?” Katy exclaimed, throwing back the handsome cloak so as to show more of the well-shaped neck, gleaming so white beneath it. “Aunt Betsy would say I had forgotten half my dress,” Helen replied, blushing as she glanced at the arms, which never since her childhood had been thus exposed to view, except at such times as her household duties had required it. Even this exception would not apply to the low neck, at which Helen had long demurred, yielding finally to Katy’s entreaties, but often wondering what Mark Ray would think, and if he would not be shocked. Mark Ray had been strangely blended with all Helen’s thoughts as she submitted herself to Esther’s practiced hands, and when the hair-dresser, summoned to her aid, asked what flowers she would wear, it was a thought of him which led her to select a single water lily, which looked as natural as if its bed had really been the bosom of Fairy Pond.