“Nothing else? Surely mademoiselle will have these few green leaves?” Celine had said, but Helen would have nothing save the lily, which was twined tastefully amid the heavy braids of the brown hair, whose length and luxuriance had thrown the hair-dresser into ecstasies of delight, and made Esther lament that in these days of false tresses no one would give Miss Lennox credit for what was wholly her own. “You will be the belle of the evening,” Katy said as she kissed her sister good night and then ran back to her baby, while Wilford, yielding to her importunities that he should not remain with her, followed Mrs. Banker’s carriage in his own private conveyance, and was soon set down at Sybil Grandon’s door. Meanwhile, at the elder Cameron’s there had been a discussion touching the propriety of their taking Helen under their protection, instead of leaving her for Mrs. Banker to chaperone, Bell insisting that it ought to be done, while the father swore roundly at Juno, who would not “be bothered with that country girl.” “You would rather leave her wholly to Mark Ray and his mother, I suppose,” Bell said, adding, as she saw the flush on Juno’s face, “You know you are dying of jealousy, and nothing annoys you so much as to hear people talk of Mark’s attentions to _Miss Lennox_.” “Do they talk?” Mrs. Cameron asked quickly, while in her gray eyes there gleamed a light far more dangerous and threatening to Helen than Juno’s open scorn. Mrs. Cameron had long intended Mark Ray for her daughter, and accustomed to have everything bend to her wishes, she had come to consider the matter as certain, even though he had never proposed in words. He had done everything else, she thought, attending Juno constantly, and frequenting their house so much that it was a standing joke for his friends to seek him there when he was not at home or at his office. Latterly, however, there had been a change, and the ambitious mother could not deny that since Helen’s arrival in New York Mark had visited them less frequently and stayed a shorter time, while she had more than once heard of him at her son’s in company with Helen. Very rapidly a train of thought passed through her mind; but it did not manifest itself upon her face, which was composed and quiet as she decided with Juno that Helen should not trouble them. With the utmost care Juno arrayed herself for the party, thinking with a great deal of complacency how impossible it was for Helen Lennox to compete with her in point of dress. “She is such a prude, I dare say she will go in that blue silk, with the long sleeves and high neck, looking like a Dutch doll,” she said to Bell, as she shook back the folds of her rich crimson, and turned her head to see the effect of her wide braids of hair. “I am not certain that a high dress is worse than bones,” Bell retorted, playfully touching Juno’s neck, which, though white and gracefully formed, was shockingly guiltless of flesh.