'Mrs.Thornburgh means to let them loose on his devoted head to-morrow night.' 'Who are coming ?' asked Mrs.Leyburn eagerly.

The occasional tea parties of the neighborhood were an unfailing excitement to her, simply because, by dint of the small adornings, natural to the occasion, they showed her daughters to her under slightly new aspects.

To see Catherine, who never took any thought for her appearance, forced to submit to a white dress, a line of pearls round the shapely throat, a flower in the brown hair, put there by Rose's imperious fingers; to sit in a corner well out of draughts, watching the effect of Rose's half-fledged beauty, and drinking in the compliments of the neighborhood on Rose's playing or Agnes's conversation, or Catherine's practical ability--these were Mrs.
Leyburn's passions, and a tea-party always gratified them to the full.
'Mamma asks as if really she wanted an answer,' remarked Agnes dryly.
'Dear mother, can't you by now make up a tea-party at the Thornburghs out of your bead ?' 'The Seatons ?' inquired Mrs.Leyburn.
'_Mrs._ Seaton and Miss Barks,' replied Rose.

'The rector won't come.
And I needn't say that, having moved heaven, and earth to get Mrs.
Seaton, Mrs.Thornburgh is now miserable because she has got her.

Her ambition is gratified, but she knows that she has spoilt the party.
Well, then, Mr.Mayhew, of course, his son, _and_ his flute.' 'You to play his accompaniments ?' put in Agnes slyly.