A young colored boy came out to them. "Pomp," Miss Wharton said, "take the pony and give him a little feed and water, not too much, mind now. He wants a little rest, so do we." Pompey assisted them out with a flourish, and led the pony up a side way. They walked to the porch, raised by three steps, and Miss Wharton was greeted warmly by several parties. "Here is a table," said Mrs. Mason. "My dear creature, I haven't seen you in an age. Have you been getting married, and is this _his_ daughter? Did you take him for the sake of the child?" "Alas! I have not been so fortunate! The child has both parents. And she has just come from Pittsburg. You know, M. de Ronville went out there and brought back--well, it is his grandniece, I suppose--Miss Daffodil Carrick." The waiter, another colored servant--they were quite favorites in the city for their obsequious politeness--placed chairs for them. "Pittsburg! Why, that's way at the West in the Indian countries, on the way to Ohio, I believe. What a long journey. And how is M. de Ronville?" "Rather improved by his journey, I think. Now, Daffodil, what will you have? You ought to be hungry." "You choose for me, madam;" in a low tone, and with a tint of exquisite coloring. It kept wavering over the sweet face, for she felt somehow that she was being observed. She wished she had on one of the pretty frocks, but Jane had ironed out this white one, and Mrs. Jarvis had found her a sash. But she was not accustomed to much consideration of herself, and she was hungry. The ladies were prettily dressed, some of them in rather quakerish colors and they had beautiful fans and parasols. It was quite a meeting-place, where they exchanged bits of news, a little gossip, and had most excellent tea. "Carrick isn't a French name," said Madam Neville, rather critically. "No. She is French on the mother's side. M. de Ronville's father and her grandfather were Huguenot exiles in the old times. He is her guardian now, and there is some property, enough for a town, I believe. And you know the French once had possession of most of that country." Betty Wharton knew that would settle her status at once, more decisively than her beauty. Then some other ladies, having finished their tea, came over for a little chat. Had she been to see the new play? For "The Academy of Polite Science" seemed rather above an ordinary theatre, and Philadelphia had swung back to amusements. Was she going to Mrs. Chew's card party this evening? "Oh, yes. She wouldn't miss it for anything." "What a beautiful child!" whispered another. "Will she live here in town?" "Oh, she is only on a visit now." "She's too nice to be wasted on such an outlandish place as Pittsburg, where they do nothing but make whiskey." The pony came round, and the ladies said their good-bys. Since the closing of the war, indeed, in gratitude for French assistance, much honor had been paid to our noble allies.