Never had Katy felt so embarrassed as she did when seated for the first time at dinner in her husband’s home, with all those criticising eyes upon her. She had been very hungry, but her appetite was gone and she almost loathed the rich food offered her, feeling so glad when the dinner was ended, and Wilford took her to the parlor, where she found Mark Ray waiting for her. He had been obliged to decline Mrs. Cameron’s invitation to dinner, but had come as early as possible after it, and Katy was delighted to see him, for she remembered how he had helped her during that week of gayety in Boston, when society was so new to her. As he had been then, so he was now, and his friendly manner put Katy as much at her ease as it was possible for her to be in the presence of Wilford’s mother and sisters. “I suppose you have not seen your sister Helen? You know I called there,” Mark said to Katy; but before she could reply, a pair of black eyes shot a keen glance at luckless Mark, and Juno’s sharp voice said quickly, “I did not know you had the honor of Miss Lennox’s acquaintance.” Mark was in a dilemma. He had kept his call at Silverton to himself, as he did not care to be questioned about Katy’s family; and now, when it accidentally came out, he tried to make some evasive reply, pretending that he had spoken of it, and Juno had forgotten. But Juno knew better, and from that night dated a strong feeling of dislike for Helen Lennox, whom she affected to despise, even though she could be jealous of her. Wisely changing the conversation, Mark asked Katy to play, and as she seldom refused, she went at once to the piano, astonishing both Mrs. Cameron and her daughters with the brilliancy of her performance. Even Juno complimented her, saying she must have taken lessons very young. “When I was ten,” Katy answered. “Cousin Morris gave me my first exercise himself. He plays sometimes.” “Yes, I knew that,” Juno replied. “Does your sister play as well as you?” Katy knew that Helen did not, and she answered frankly, “Morris thinks she does not. She is not as fond of it as I am.” Then feeling that she must in some way make amends for Helen, she added, “But she knows a great deal more than I do about _books_. Helen is very smart.” There was a smile on every lip at this ingenuous remark, but only Mark and Bell liked Katy the better for it. Wilford did not care to have her talking of her friends, and he kept her at the piano, until she said her fingers were tired and begged leave to stop. It was late ere Mark bade them good night; so late that Katy began to wonder if he would never go, yawning once so perceptibly that Wilford gave her a reproving glance, which sent the hot blood to her face and drove from her every feeling of drowsiness. Even after he had gone the family were in no haste to retire, but sat chatting with Wilford until the city clock struck twelve and Katy was nodding in her chair.