up the street after school at night, swinging it triumphantly by the string, a tiny figure, wrapped in a queer, old-fashioned cloak, waited for him between the heavy gate and one of the high posts surmounted by great black wooden balls. Dusky shadows were softening the staring red walls. all around. Ghostly figures hastened down the street where the gaslights were beginning to glimmer faintly. A cart, mysteriously full, had creaked over the snowcovered pavements, and paused before the brilliantly-illuminated house over the way. Heavily-laden baskets were being lifted. out and carried in, from which, to Katey's mind, the wonderful party was to be evolved. It was very cold out there in the wide crack between the gate and the post; but a warm thrill shot through the little body as the lights flamed out into the street, bringing one sudden, evanescent glimpse of glory before the shades were drawn.

It is still damp and a good deal drawn in on one side," said Jack, displaying the little shoe, which looked as though a bite had been taken out of it, "but you won't care."

Care? The little wet, half-worn shoe shone like Cinderella's slipper in her eyes, as the great gate closed after them with a dull thud, and they hastened into the house.

"Come in; let me see if you are quite nice," called Madam Earle, an hour later, as she stood framed in the parlor door, while the children descended the stairs, a kind of halo about their young heads cast by the candle carried in black Chloe's hand.

Delphine danced forward into the firelight, and gave a sweeping curtsy. The folds of the old green pongee-scant and not overbright-fluttered out as she bent to the floor. But against the dead green of her gown, her neck and arms shone pure white, and the merry brown eyes raised to her mother's face held a charm beyond pearls and diamonds. She thrust out her foot ruefully. It was encased in one of the fantastic slippers. A shadow crossed Madam Earle's face. She felt more keenly than they each thorn which poverty made to pierce the pride of her children.

"But I don't mind," Delphine said brightly. "I would sooner dance in my bare feet than sit in a corner in satin slippers." But Delphine would never sit in a corner, of that her mother was sure.

Then Katey crept out of the shadows and stood timidly awaiting inspection.

"O Katey," laughed Delphine, “I can see nothing but your eyes and the great flowers on your gown!"

"Are they so very large?" and Katey looked anxiously down upon the oldfashioned brocade in which she was arrayed. It was covered with impossible roses, and had come down in various shapes and styles from a former generation, being made over at last for Delphine in a fashion quite gone by, since which time it had descended to Katey.

Are they so very large?" she repeated, as a moment of silence followed her question.

"Well, no," burst out Jack; "if you call them sunflowers, kitten, they are small." Katey's eyes had turned imploringly to him. She gave a quick little gasp of pain which he did not notice. Her mother's arm drew her forward.

"It is a very handsome piece of silk," she said, stroking it with her hand. "I have heard my mother say that when this gown was brought from England there was not another in the colony that could compare with it. It would almost stand

alone."

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But it will never stand quite alone," laughed Delphine, to whom this consolation had been administered many times. Unfortunately, some one of us will always have to stand in it."

"Never mind," whispered Jack in Katey's ear, as the heavy gate swung after them and they emerged into the street, "nobody will notice you, and you look nice enough, anyway; not handsome, of course, like Delphine.'

"O no," assented Katey, who was quite content to be thus estimated, and began to be cheered even so soon by Jack's equivocal praise. The little heart had been full of anxiety a moment before; but if Jack was satisfied it must be that she was equal to the occasion. Jack would know; he had been to parties before. Poor Jack! whose heart was heavy enough on his own account at that moment.

"Why do you say so?" exclaimed Delphine, sharply. She had caught his words, low though they were. "You know we look as though we had come out of the ark. But what do I care?" and she ran up the steps. Carriages were crowding the narrow street; white-robed little forms were being lifted out and borne in tenderly. A gentleman brushed them as they stood in the doorway; he carried a dainty figure

in his arms. "Here, Pet, your flowers," as he set her down, and the little gloved hands received a miniature bouquet as the door was flung wide open. A soft, warm A soft, warm air, sweet with the scent of flowers, a blaze of light, the sound of music-all poured out to meet them. Katey, shivering with excitement, overcome with awe, stood still. "What are you waiting for?" It was Delphine's voice which roused her. Delphine's hand pulled her forward. She found herself mounting the stairs, led into a room musical with the tinkle of tiny belles transformed beyond all recognitionher schoolmates though many of them were. "Is this the party?" she gasped.

"Don't be silly," Delphine replied. "This is the dressing-room, don't you see? Nothing but children!" she said aloud, as the maid who had been fitting dainty slippers to tiny feet came to meet them.

"Yes, Miss," the girl replied, obsequiously; everybody gave pretty Delphine her due of honor and respect; "but it is early yet; and indeed there are some young ladies and gentlemen down stairs." "I know it is early," Delphine replied, carelessly shaking out the clinging folds of the green pongee and drawing on her gloves; "but we are neighbors."

Katey, in the meantime, had removed her cloak, not without some hesitation and a throb of terror as to the result.

"O what a funny dress!" exclaimed a little miss in white lace and pink satin ribbons, staring at the brocade gown.

"Such flowers! Why Katey Earle!" added a school acquaintance, slipping out of a white opera cloak and drawing near.

"Jack says they are not as big as sunflowers," Katey ventured, deprecatingly.

"Of course not, you little goose;" and Delphine joined in the laugh which followed the words. "Come, it is time to go down." And, glad of any change, Katey followed her with tingling cheeks and a heavy, anxious heart.

CHAPTER II.

KATEY FINDS A FRIEND.

JACK was waiting for them just outside the dressing-room door. He had become all at once very stiff and redfaced and queer, and not like Jack at all. His hands seemed to have swollen, and protruded, very red and more freckled than ever, to an unusual length beyond the sleeves of his jacket; and why did he

look so choked and strange about the neck? Katey, grown suddenly observant through painful experience, gave him a quick, searching glance from head to foot, mentally comparing him with the fine young gentlemen gathered at the head of the stairs. There was a difference, but in what it lay she could not tell; certainly boys' clothes were all alike, just jackets and trowsers, she thought enviously. But boys' clothes are not all alike, as poor Jack had found, to his sorrow, in that long ten minutes of waiting, the torments of which Katey fortunately did not know. She drew in a deep breath of comfort; she could bear the flaming brocade even, which refused to stand alone, if she were quite sure that Jack was not hurt.

"I will find you a seat somewhere," said Delphine, when they had crossed the room and presented themselves to the little hostess, who received her guests with the assurance of years in society. A hush, then a low titter had followed them. Jack's face flamed, and the hands hanging awkwardly at his side clenched themselves for an instant. Delphine raised her head proudly, but her face grew white; only Katey, bewildered by the bright scene, heard nothing.

She

"There," and Delphine tucked the child into a corner, "you can sit here until they begin to play," which Katey was only too glad to do. The first moment of confusion and bewilderment was past, and the room seemed suddenly full of strange, unfriendly eyes searching her out. shrank as far from sight as possible. Jack lingered awkwardly beside her for a few moments, then the crowd swallowed him up. Delphine too disappeared; but, secure in her corner, Katey for the time was happy, in that pitiful, unnatural happiness for a child-the being permitted to look on while others play.

"They were forming a contra-dance in the next room. One of the young ladies belonging to the house, busily pairing off the little people, paused before Katey at last. "Will you have a partner, little girl?"

"I-I don't know," stammered Katey. She did not understand the question; but this might be one of the plays of which Jack had told her.

"Can you dance?" The girl spoke impatiently. What a stupid, little old-fashioned child it was, to be sure!

"I don't know," Katey answered with grave consideration, "I never tried."

The girl stared, laughed and went on. "I almost think I could," the child continued to herself, leaning out from her corner to watch the dancers. She was growing accustomed to the scene, and now a desire to participate in it seized upon her. With a glowing, eager face and shining eyes she followed the strange movements, while the music, rising and falling, beat its own time in her heart. There was a little stir, and the crowd about her pressed back; the green pongee fluttered before her eyes, as Delphine, flushed and radiant, chassed down the room. Her hands were crossed in those of an old-young man, with a bald spot on the top of his head, and a murmur of admiration followed the twinkle of the bespangled slippers. Katey's glance was full of breathless delight; she gloried in Delphine's beauty; she shared her triumph. In her eagerness she did not notice the approach of a set of young fops of her own age who had been watching her for some time from across the room. A sudden pinch, causing her to utter a half suppressed cry as she grasped her arm, called them first to her notice.

"Hallo, granny!" She looked up; her eyes full of the tears the pain had brought, to find a face made horrible by contortions, close to her own. Dacre Home, upon the edge of the group, laughed a cruel, mocking laugh; "O, come on," he said superciliously, "don't torment the child." There was a spark of feeling somewhere in the boy which had been touched by the child's tears.

"Jimminy, what shoes!" exclaimed another, as they moved away. The little foot had been thrust out in her excitement, displaying the marks of old Crinkle's skill to all beholders. A sob rose in her throat as she hastily drew it under her gown. The pain in her arm stung her still; but it was nothing to the pain that cruel taunt had awakened in her heart. O, where was Jack! If he would only take her home! Why did she ever come? The glamour was all gone. It was not fairydom any longer, as, shrinking back out of sight, she wiped her eyes stealthily.

Delphine sought her out at last, “What, still here! Why don't you go and play with the others?"

The child had choked back her tears at Delphine's approach. A certain sensitive pride made her hide her bitter experience. Jack was somewhere happy. Delphine, too, flamed upon her like a star; it was

only herself who was miserable; nobody should know; she could bear it for a little time; they would go home presently. "I would rather stay here," she said, "besides I can see everything."

"Well, you are the oddest little thing," Delphine replied. To her, seeing was but a small part of the evening's pleasure. Conscious of thus having done her duty in looking after Katey, she sailed away again upon the arm of the old-young man, if one could be said to sail under such scant canvas. But even this little exchange of words created a diversion and made the child less miserable. Then by leaning forward she discovered that she could hide her shoes with the skirt of her gown. This, too, was a comfort; and her heart grew more light. Then when the plays really began, and one and another saw that she did not join in them, tiny fans and laceedged handkerchiefs were laid in her lap for safe-keeping, causing a friendly exchange of words, and giving her a kind of silent partnership in the game. So her enjoyment, slowly stealing back, reached its culmination when Jack presently came down the room, very red and swollen still in appearance, as though his jacket were much too tight for him, but with Josie Durant, the prettiest little lady in the room, hanging upon his arm. Nothing escaped Katey's eyes; from the little white feet shining through the open-worked stockings above the satin slippers, to the yellow hair coiffured in the latest style over the childish face.

"I told your brother that he ought to go and find you," said the little lady with an authoritative air which seemed to Katey very droll," and so you see I've brought him." Jack reddened and laughed, looking rather silly, but thoroughly pleased. Yes, Katey saw, and so did all the little lords and ladies, busy with their game, regarding her with new favor, for did not Josie Durant wear real diamond earrings?

"What does he like to do?" the little

girl went on, still coquettishly ignoring Jack's name. "He will not play anything.

Jack twisting a button upon his jacket and blushing up to his eyes, offered not a word in his own defense. "Let me see," Katey pondered gravely, seized with at violent interest in Jack's favorite pursuits, "he likes to slide down hill."

Jack laughed.

"But you can't slide down hill at parties," the child replied.

"That's so," answered Katey.

"So I can't think what we shall do with him," as though Jack must be immediately employed or at least amused. "Please fasten my glove." Jack's red fingers resolved themselves into ten thumbs, each one more clumsy than the others. "O let me do it ;" and Katey drew the button into place.

tear had fallen into her lap upon the poor despised roses, where it shone for a moment like dew. But as her anger rose the tears dried away. "Jack shouldn't do so," she said aloud in a strange, excited tone. She was alone; the last couple had passed out; the music sounded faint in the distance. She started up with a sudden purpose. "I'll just go home." She darted out into she hall, at the farther end of which was the supper-room. Between the parted forms gathered about the door she caught a momentary glimpse of the glories

been around much."

"No-o," Katey replied slowly, giving a final pat to the little wrist before releasing it, "I haven't, much."

She could not mortify Jack before Miss Josie by confessing that she had sat upon that blessed ottoman in the corner ever since the party began. Instinctively she guarded the honor of the family.

"Well, we must go," said the kind little tyrant presently, turning Jack round. Perhaps we'll come again. I forgot to ask if you were having a good time," she threw over her shoulder.

Beautiful," Katey responded warmly. There was no doubt upon the subject in her mind, as they disappeared, the tiny, gloved hand still resting upon the sleeve of Jack's out-grown jacket. And then there's the supper," thought the child, who was weighing and measuring her joys as only they do to whom joys are few and rare.

The music startled the little people in the midst of their game. It was a march now, and a long procession began to form. All the little fans and handkerchiefs were caught from Katey's lap as their owners hastened to place themselves in the line. The young lady who had offered her a partner for the first dance, was arranging the little masters and misses in couples. Katey in her corner was quite overlooked. Perhaps Jack would come, she thought, anxiously scanning the jackets dancing about before her eyes. Once in the distance she caught a glimpse of the green pongee. Delphine was a young lady, and between her and Katey, by reason of years, was a great gulf fixed; but Jack!—it was not like Jack to forget. The procession moved out of the room. Katey's heart swelled with grief, which changed to anger against the little lady who had satin slippers, real diamond earrings, and-Jack. A

her with the sweet strains of the music. A confusion of bright, happy faces, of fairy forms, danced before her eyes—a paradise from which she was shut out; and O dreadful to see! There was Jack-her Jack-with no care or anxiety upon his face, bashful, but triumphant, with Josie Durant at his side. He held her plate; one of her dainty gloves peeped out of his pocket. Katey marked it all, as she stood for a moment with parted lips, flushed cheeks, and little dark hands clenched tight. A pale-faced boy sitting upon the stairs with a crutch lying beside him, leaned over to watch the queer little figure. What could be the matter with the child as suddenly turning she darted up the stairs, falling over the crutch in her haste!

One moment, please." He caught at the brocade gown to save her. "I believe I shall have to trouble you for my crutch." It had slid to the foot of the stairs.

"O!" said Katey, recovering herself, and diverted for the moment from her purpose, "I must have struck it; but you see I'm in a hurry," as she ran down to recover it.

"Yes, I should think so." What an odd little creature it was, to be sure, in the queer, old-fashioned gown, and with a mass of dark hair tossed by her fall about her great dark eyes. "But won't you sit down a moment; it is rather lonely here all by one's self."

Katey had given him a hurried inspection. He was years older than Jack, but not so handsome, though his clothes were finer and not at all out-grown. Poor Katey had become observant in such matters. Then he really desired her to sit by him. That was being almost like the other girls in pretty gowns down stairs; and her queer little heart grew light again. "I believe I will," she said, perching herself primly upon the stair above him. "But you'd better not stay here," she went on, as visions of

the glories below floated through her mind; "you won't get any supper."

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O yes, I will; they told me to remain here out of the crowd until they sent one of the waiters to me."

Katey had not the least conception as to whom "they" referred; but she had become somewhat embittered by her late experience, and inclined to doubt everybody. "Perhaps they'll forget you," she suggested, secretly wiping away a tear with the corner of a very large embroidered handkerchief. "O no; they won't do that, I am sure." "I don't know," persisted Katey sorrowfully, "they forgot me."

"I'm glad of it," the boy replied. So that was the trouble, he thought. "I am not really glad, of course, and I don't see how it could have happened," he added diplomatically; "but how fortunate for me! I should have had to sit here alone."

Katey made no reply to the words so full of kindly tact. She seemed lost in thought. The little hands were clasped tight over the great roses blossoming upon the diminutive knees. The wide forehead under the dark tangles which had fallen over it was drawn by two horizontal lines where the eyes came together in consultation. "How should you like," she began again presently, "to have your brother go off with another girl?" The boy was rather abashed by the suddenness, not to say strangeness of the proposition. "Well," he replied slowly, "if she was a very nice girl-"

"With real diamond earrings," interpolated Katey, not losing sight of the honor conferred upon the family.

"Yes," assented the boy, gravely. Katey's great eyes were upon him, and he dared not smile; "and open-work stockings," she continued. "Yes," he went on, "and with open-work stockings, by all means; a very nice girl," he ventured.

"Yes," said Katey, warming to the subject, "not a bit ashamed to speak to anybody in a corner."

“O, no, not at all," repeated the boy. "Why, I think I should like it very well.'

"So do I," exclaimed Katey, now thoroughly aroused to the advantages of the situation, and veering entirely around. "I think it is beautiful."

"Here it is now," and her new friend leaned down to receive a plate loaded with strange delicacies. "Pomp!" he called after the waiter, who was an awful personage in Katey's eyes, "another plate, and sharp, now."

He piled the lion's share into her lap until the child laughed aloud in her delight. It was not for the cakes and candies; she was too happy to eat, but it was so delightful to be waited upon; to be almost like the little girls down stairs! "Jack said the supper would be best of all; and— there he is now!" as a boy suddenly appeared, darting in and out of the parlors, and thrusting his head into the corners as though searching for some one. "Jack!" she called, nearly overturning her plate as she started from her seat.

"What are you doing up there?" Jack responded rather crossly, as, heated and breathless, he discovered her at last. "O," in a milder tone, as he caught sight of her companion, "I thought you were alone."

"No," replied Katey, "I am not alone at all. There is a very nice boy here; 'most as nice as you, but not near so handsome," she added in a whisper, speaking through the stair rails.

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The very nice boy laughed, and appeared a little embarrassed by this frank speech, which somewhat modified Jack. I'll take care of your sister," he said; you can find her here after supper." "Yes," added Katey, sitting down again. to her nuts and raisins. "You can go back, Jack; I don't care anything at all about it now." What it was about which Katey had ceased to care, Jack did not pause to inquire, but, thus relieved from all responsibility, hastened away again.

An hour later, when hooded and cloaked, the children trooped down the stairs to go home, in the moment of waiting Katey found herself once more by the side of her new acquaintance. He stood leaning upon his crutch, looking pale and tired. “You'd better go and sit down," she said in a motherly tone which greatly amused the boy.

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"I must stand sometimes for a change," he replied; you see I can't run about as you do."

"I don't care to run about," Katey said, with an ill-defined attempt at consolation. "Still," she added with grave truthfulness, "I suppose I should care to if I couldn't. Then Delphine's hand drew her away. "Why did you do so?" Katey said, when the door had closed after them and they were out in the dark, still night. did you pull me away? I wanted to say good-night to him."

"Why

"Who is he?" Delphine asked in reply; for Delphine, with all her gaiety, had a