slip her hand into his as she used to when guests are leaving and she stands at his side; neither is she quite so demonstrative when he comes up from the office at night, and there is a look upon her face which was not there when she came.  They are taming her down, mother and Juno, and to-morrow they are actually going to commence a systematic course of training, preparatory to her debut into society, said debut to occur on the night of the ——­, when Mrs. General Reynolds gives the party talked about so long.  I was present when they met in solemn conclave to talk it over, mother asking Will if he had any objections to Juno’s instructing his wife with regard to certain things of which she was ignorant.  Will’s forehead knit itself together at first, and I half hoped he would veto the whole proceedings, but after a moment he replied: 

“No, providing Katy is willing.  Her feelings must not be hurt.”

“Certainly not,” mother said.  “Katy is a dear little creature, and we all love her very much, but that does not blind us to her deficiencies, and as we are anxious that she should fill that place in society which Mrs. Wilford Cameron ought to fill, it seems necessary to tone her down a little before her first appearance at a party.”

To this Will assented, and then Juno went on to enumerate her deficiencies, which, as nearly as I can remember, are these:  She laughs too much and too loud; is too enthusiastic over novelties, conducting as if she never saw anything before; has too much to say about Silverton and “my folks,” quotes Uncle Ephraim and Sister Helen too often, and is even guilty at times of mentioning a certain Aunt Betsy, who must have floated with the Ark and snuffled the breezes of Ararat.  She does not know how to enter, or cross, or leave a room properly, or receive an introduction; or, in short, do anything according to New York ideas as understood by the Camerons, etc.; she is to be taught—­toned down, mother called it—­dwelling upon her high spirits as something vulgar, if not absolutely wicked.  How father would have sworn, for he calls her his little sunbeam, and says he never should have gained so fast if she had not come with her sunny face and lively, merry laugh to cheer his sickroom.  Katy has a fast friend in him and Jamie.  But mother and Juno—­well, I shall be glad if they do not annihilate her altogether, and I am surprised that Will allows it.  I wonder if Katy is really happy with us?  She says she is, and is evidently delighted with New York life, clapping her hands when the invitation to Mrs. Reynolds’ party was received, and running with it to Wilford as soon as he came home.  It is her first big party, she says, she having never attended any except that little sociable in Boston, and those insipid schoolgirl affairs at the seminary.  I may be conceited—­Juno thinks I am—­but really and truly, Bell Cameron’s private opinion of herself is that at heart she is better than the