“Are you girls ready!” called Nora’s voice just outside their door.

“In a minute,” answered Grace, and with a last glance at the mirror she and Anne stepped into the hall, where Nora, Jessica and Eva Allen stood waiting.

“Where’s Marian?” asked Grace, noticing her absence.

“Don’t ask me,” said Eva, in a tone bordering on disgust.  “She won’t be out for some time.”

“Shall we wait for her?” inquired Anne.

“No,” replied Eva shortly.  “Let us go, and don’t ask me anything about her.  When she does finally appear you’ll understand.”

“This sounds very mysterious,” said Miriam Nesbit, who in a white dotted Swiss, with a sprig of holly in her black braids, looked particularly handsome.  “Come on, girls, shall we go down?”

The six girls descended to the drawing room, looking the very incarnation of youth and charming girlhood, and the judge’s eyes brightened at sight of them.

“A rosebud garden of girls,” he cried gallantly, “but I seem to miss some one.  Where is the seventh rosebud?”

“Marian will be here directly,” said Grace, as they gathered about the big fireplace until dinner should be announced.

But ten minutes went by, and Marian still lingered.

“Dinner is served,” announced the old butler.

The girls exchanged furtive glances, the judge looked rather uncomfortable, while Mr. Henry Hammond frowned openly.

Then there was another ten minutes’ wait, that the girls tried to cover with conversation.  Then—­a rustle of silken skirts and a figure appeared in the archway that caused those assembled to stare in sheer amazement.

Was this fashionably attired person plain every-day Marian Barber?  Her hair was drawn high upon her head, and topped with a huge cluster of false puffs, which made her look several years older than she had appeared in the afternoon, while her gown of blue satin was cut rather too low for a young girl, and had mere excuses in the way of sleeves.  To cap the climax, however, it had a real train that persisted in getting in her way every time she attempted to move.

For a full minute no one spoke.  Grace had an almost irrepressible desire to laugh aloud, as she caught the varied expressions on the faces of her friends.  Mr. Hammond alone appeared unmoved.  Grace fancied that she even detected a gleam of approval in his eyes as he glanced toward Marian.

“Shall we dine!” asked the judge, offering his arm to Grace, while Tom Gray escorted Miss Putnam, the other young men following with their friends.

The dinner passed off smoothly, although there was a curious constraint fell upon the young people that nothing could dispel.

Marian’s gown had indeed proved a surprise to her young friends, and they could not shake off a certain sense of mortification at her lack of good taste.

“How could Marian Barber be so ridiculous, and why did her mother ever allow her to dress herself like that?” thought Grace as she glanced at Marian, who was simpering at some remark that Mr. Henry Hammond was making to her in a voice too low for the others to hear.