This morning before descending the stairs she was beguiled into taking down the dress, just to look at it, spreading it out in fleecy, shining folds upon the bed. How beautiful it was! She had not learned for her soul's comfort that the wise man's counsel is very profound when he instructs, "Look not upon the wine when it is red"! Even in the daylight tiny brilliants flashed out from their setting in foamy lace about the neck. Well Winifred knew what a radiant picture would stand within her mirror-frame when the dress should be donned, and eyes bright with excited anticipation should rival the glow of diamonds. If she went, she should wear the slender gold necklace with its single pendant of diamonds which her father had given her. But she was not going--and for what an intangible reason!
Hubert had returned from his ride, and Winifred met him in the upper hall and confided to him her perplexity.
"I feel as though there were two of me instead of one," she said. "One of us would like to go to Mrs. Butterworth's party."
"Decided last Sunday not to go," she answered.
"Which one do you think is on the Lord's side?" he queried.
"The one that says not to go," she replied, without hesitation.
"I should stand by that one if I were you," he advised.
"I will," she said, and slipped her hand in his as they went down the stairs.
At the breakfast table the dreaded discussion was precipitated. Mrs. Gray addressed her daughter.
"Winifred, dear," she said, "have you looked at your new white dress to see if it requires anything to be done before Mrs. Butterworth's party? Did we not think the girdle should be altered slightly?"
"I was looking at it this morning, mother," faltered Winifred, and Hubert shot a sympathetic glance across the table.
"N--no," she hesitated, "I think it is all right." Then she girded the loins of her intention and added: "But I think, mother, if you do not mind, I should prefer not to go to Mrs. Butterworth's party."
"Why, Winifred!" exclaimed her mother in surprise. "What can you be thinking of? The invitations were accepted long ago. You are not ill, certainly?"
"Oh, no!" said Winifred. "But I think I can excuse myself to Mrs. Butterworth so that she will not be offended. My chief regret will be if it disappoints you, mother."