“Now have you found something to laugh at in me already?” she said gleefully.

“Why,” said Ester, forgetting to be startled over the idea that she should laugh at Cousin Abbie, “I’m only laughing to think how totally different you are from your picture.”

“From my picture!”

“Yes, the one which I had drawn of you in my own mind.  I thought you were tall, and had black hair, and dressed in silks, like a grand lady.”

Abbie laughed again.

“Don’t condemn me to silks in such weather as this, at least,” she said gaily.  “Mother thinks I am barbarous to summon friends to the city in August; but the circumstances are such that it could not well be avoided.  So put on your coolest dress, and be as comfortable as possible.”

This question of how she should appear on this first evening had been one of Ester’s puzzles; it would hardly do to don her blue silk at once, and she had almost decided to choose the black one; but Abbie’s laugh and shrug of the shoulder had settled the question of silks.  So now she stood in confused indecision before her open trunk.

Abbie came to the rescue.

“Shall I help you?” she said, coming forward “I’ll not ring for Maggie to-night, but be waiting maid myself.  Suppose I hang up some of these dresses?  And which shall I leave for you?  This looks the coolest,” and she held up to Ester’s view the pink and white muslin which did duty as an afternoon dress at home.

“Well,” said Ester, with a relieved smile, “I’ll take that.”

And she thought within her heart:  “They are not so grand after all.”

Presently they went down to dinner, and in view of the splendor of the dining-room, and sparkle of gas and the glitter of silver, she changed her mind again and thought them very grand indeed.

Her uncle’s greeting was very cordial; and though Ester found it impossible to realize that her Aunt Helen was actually three years older than her own mother, or indeed that she was a middle-aged lady at all, so very bright and gay and altogether unsuitable did her attire appear; yet on the whole she enjoyed the first two hours of her visit very much, and surprised and delighted herself at the ease with which she slipped into the many new ways which she saw around her.  Only once did she find herself very much confused; to her great astonishment and dismay she was served with a glass of wine.  Now Ester, among the stanch temperance friends with whom she had hitherto passed her life, had met with no such trial of her temperance principles, which she supposed were sound and strong; yet here she was at her uncle’s table, sitting near her aunt, who was contentedly sipping from her glass.  Would it be proper, under the circumstances, to refuse?  Yet would it be proper to do violence to her sense of right?