“What’s the matter, my pet?” cried her mother; “come to me, and tell me what’s the matter.” Bell ran roaring to her mother; but no otherwise explained the cause of her sorrow than by tearing the fine lace with frantic gestures from her cuffs, and throwing the fragments into her mother’s lap. “Oh! the lace, child!—are you mad?” said her mother, catching hold of both her hands. “Your beautiful lace, my dear love—do you know how much it cost?” “I don’t care how much it cost—it is not beautiful, and I’ll have none of it,” replied Bell, sobbing; “for it is not beautiful.” “But it is beautiful,” retorted her mother; “I chose the pattern myself. Who has put it into your head, child, to dislike it? Was it Nancy?” “No, not Nancy, but _them_, mamma,” said Bell, pointing to Laura and Rosamond. “Oh, fie! don’t _point_,” said her mother, putting down her stubborn finger; “nor say _them_, like Nancy; I am sure you misunderstood. Miss Laura, I am sure, did not mean any such thing.” “No, madam; and I did not say any such thing, that I recollect,” said Laura, gently. “Oh, no, indeed!” cried Rosamond, warmly, rising in her sister’s defence. No defence or explanation, however, was to be heard, for everybody had now gathered round Bell, to dry her tears, and to comfort her for the mischief she had done to her own cuffs. They succeeded so well, that in about a quarter of an hour the young lady’s eyes, and the reddened arches over her eyebrows came to their natural colour; and the business being thus happily hushed up, the mother, as a reward to her daughter for her good humour, begged that Rosamond would now be so good as to produce her “charming present.” Rosamond, followed by all the company, amongst whom, to her great joy, was her godmother, proceeded to the dressing room. “Now I am sure,” thought she, “Bell will be surprised, and my godmother will see she was right about my generosity.” The doors of the wardrobe were opened with due ceremony, and the filigree basket appeared in all its glory. “Well, this is a charming present, indeed!” said the godmother, who was one of the company; “_my_ Rosamond knows how to make presents.” And as she spoke, she took hold of the basket, to lift it down to the admiring audience. Scarcely had she touched it, when, lo! the basket fell to the ground, and only the handle remained in her hand. All eyes were fixed upon the wreck. Exclamations of sorrow were heard in various tones; and “Who can have done this?” was all that Rosamond could say. Bell stood in sullen silence, which she obstinately preserved in the midst of the inquiries that were made about the disaster.