It was a lovely black silk, the best her father had been able to choose for her the last time he was in London.

A little pang did shoot through her heart at the thought of parting with it, but she had too much of that father in her not to know that the greatest honor that can be shown any _thing_, is to make it serve a _person_; that the dearest gift of love, withheld from human necessity, is handed over to the moth and the rust.

But little idea had Letty, much as she appreciated her kindness, what a sacrifice Mary was making for her that she might look her own sweet self, and worthy of her renowned Tom! When Tom came home that night, however, the look of the world and all that is in it changed speedily for Letty, and terribly.

He arrived in great good humor--somebody had been praising his verses, and the joy of the praise overflowed on his wife.

But when, pleased as any little girl with the prospect of a party and a new frock, she told him, with gleeful gratitude, of the invitation and the heavenly kindness which had rendered it possible for her to accept it, the countenance of the great man changed.