But Mrs. Castleton, though very gentle, could be very firm, when her own wishes were concerned, and as she did not care to meet Mr. Sutherland again, who had quite devoted himself to Grace the last few days at Niagara, and as his friend had been indifferent from the first, she saw no reason why she should stop there. As for the ball, she quite laughed at the girls for even wanting to go at all.
“It’s useless to say any thing more, Ruth,” said Harry, in a loud tone. “She’s a selfish creature—that’s the end of it.”
But that was not the “end of it,” for the three girls did not meet for a month that at least half an hour was not devoted to a lively abuse of their once beau ideal, “that lovely Mrs. Castleton.” And we are mistaken if Mary Randall, to whose joining the party Harry Meredith had so warmly objected, because he’d have to be civil to her, has not made a conquest of the same Mr. Harry Meredith. And there is every appearance of Trenton reminiscences leading to something with Grace and Mr. Sutherland; and so I rather think there’ll be two weddings next winter, at which Ruth will be bridemaid.
MARY.
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BY WILLIAM M. BRIGGS.
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There was a maiden once—so fair —
So shy in look—yet so beguiling —