"No, indeed, I never was more in earnest in my life. I heard her say to-day she thought you knew more of what was right than any one else in the house, and had more courage too."
Amy was silent from astonishment.
"It is your quiet way, Amy, which strikes her so, I am sure," continued Dora; "you never make a fuss about being good-natured, and yet you always do everything for everybody; and I am sure they must all see it, and love it too—at least if they are like me. There is always a difficulty when any one else is goodnatured, they seem to have achieved something."
"You know, Dora," replied Amy, gravely, "that I always ask you not to say such things to me, but you will forget. I don't mean that I don't like it, because I do very much; but mamma would rather I should not hear them, and so it vexes me."
"Vex you!" exclaimed Dora, earnestly; "if you knew half I would do to please you, Amy, you would not talk of my vexing you, at least not willingly; I never could have believed, before I came to Emmerton, how painful I should find it to be unkind to any one; but now I can never forgive myself when I have been cross to you."
The tears rose to Amy's eyes as she wished her cousin good night and hastened away; but the expression of Dora's affection amply rewarded her for any impatience she had repressed, or self-denial she had practised.
CHAPTER XXI.
Dora was quite satisfied the next morning when she saw the whole party engaged in decorating the saloon for the evening's amusement. Frank and his companions, indeed, were at times rather more troublesome than useful, from the very zeal with which they engaged in the work. They would put up boughs of evergreens where they were not needed, and insist on driving in a superabundance of nails; and they would also strew the floor with enormous branches, which only served as stumbling-blocks for every one who moved. But these were minor evils; all talked fast, and laughed merrily, and looked happy; and those who have ever had the responsibility of entertaining others, must be aware that no symptoms can be so encouraging as these. Miss Cunningham might perhaps have been considered an exception; for there was something like a sneer on her lip, as she seated herself by Margaret's side at the table that had been placed for the flower-makers, and began turning over the collection of roses, tulips, and lilies of every form and colour, which far out-shone in variety any that nature has produced. "I should like to know," she said, "what is the use of your all wasting time in this way? What will be the good of it when you have done?"
"It is for our pleasure," replied Julia Stanley, sharply; "and as to wasting time, why it is better than doing nothing."
"Such common, vulgar work, too," continued Miss Cunningham; "and all for a conjurer."