Awe of their preceptor in some, good breeding in others, prevented any audible outbreak of amusement; but what school girl on the _qui vive_ for diversion could keep from smiling? Mr. Purcell frowned as his eye travelled from one mirthful face to another, but a twinkle from Ellen Morris' dancing orbs neutralized the effort; and there was a perceptible twitch of his risible muscle as he rapped for "order." Ida and Carry had not escaped the contagion, an indulgence for which they reproached themselves. "Poor girl!" whispered Carry. "She knows no better. She is to be pitied instead of laughed at." And Ida thought of _her_ loneliness, upon her induction into these strange scenes. "I can lessen her discomfort, and, uninfluenced by prejudice, she will be thankful, perhaps will become fond of me." Carry read her resolve in her thoughtful survey of the stranger; but while she loved and honoured her for it, her heart misgave her as she looked more attentively at the object of the purposed charity. Her physiognomy was not more irregular than unpleasant in its expression. She had opened a book, to be in the fashion in this as in every thing else, but her regards were wandering around the room in scared yet unblushing curiosity, flustered at being in a crowd, without a doubt as to her ability to cope with the best of them. Before the exercises of the forenoon were concluded, she was summoned to see a visitor, and did not reappear before intermission. Then Ida, having occasion to go into a small room, where bonnets and cloaks were hung, found her standing at the window, crying. She wheeled about sharply on hearing a step; her eyes swelled almost out of sight, and her whole appearance frightful in its disorder. "What do you want?" she asked, querulously. "I did not know you were here," said Ida. "What is the matter? Are you sick? Can I help you?" "No. My pa's gone away!" A fresh burst. "Gone! where?" "Gone home! and I don't want to stay in this nasty, mean place. I don't want to go to school no more--nowhar!" To hint at the obvious propriety of the deprecated measure was a temptation policy bade her resist, and Ida was actually nonplussed in casting about in her mind for appropriate consolation. "You will like us better than you expect," she said, rather awkwardly; "and your father will come soon to see you again--will he not?" "Yes; he's comin' next week. He is a representative!" mouthing the word magniloquently. "A--what?" "He belongs to the legislater. Lor! didn't you know that?" "No," replied Ida, humbly; "I am so little conversant with State affairs. You will be glad to have him so near."