“No; he was always coldly polite to them, but would never show them any attention.” “He liked _one_ well enough, it seems, to leave her all his fortune,” madam said, with an arch look into the beautiful face at her side. “Yes; he gave me all he had, excepting the ten thousand that Earle was to have. I was always his ‘pet,’ his ‘ray of sunshine,’ his ‘happiness,’ but I would rather have my dear, kind uncle back than all the fortunes in the world,” she said sadly. “He was your mother’s brother, you say, dear—what was his name?” asked madam, who had been very deeply interested in all she had heard. “It is a name that he was always very proud of—Ri——” “Editha!” suddenly called Mr. Dalton from behind them. “I have been chasing you around for the last half-hour. Do you know what time it is?” “No, papa.” “It is after one, and time that delicate people were at rest.” “Very well; I am ready to go now, if you wish,” she said, quietly. Mr. Tressalia and Mr. Sylvester now joined them, and the former made some proposal to madam regarding an excursion for the morrow. While they were discussing the question Mr. Dalton tried to hurry Editha away, regardless of the propriety of the thing. “I must bid them good-night, papa,” she said, coldly, and wilfully standing her ground, while she wondered at his extreme haste. “Be quick about it, then, for I am dused tired,” he said, impatiently. She then said good-night to them in a general way, and turned to accompany her father, not very well pleased to be treated so like a child. “My dear,” called madam, with an anxious look in her eye, as she saw how pale and weary Editha was looking, “get all the rest you can, and then come to me as soon as you have breakfasted to-morrow, for I have something very particular to say to you. My room is No. 105.” Editha promised, while Sumner Dalton ground his teeth with inward rage at this familiar request. “What you can see in _her_ to admire is more than I can imagine,” he remarked, curtly, on their way out of the park. “Why, papa, where are your eyes? I think she is the most charming woman I ever met,” Editha replied, with unwise enthusiasm. “I prefer you should not be quite so free with an entire stranger—it is not proper,” he growled. She set her little chin, and her eyes flashed with a light which told that she considered herself old enough and capable of judging for herself upon such matters. “Have you enjoyed the evening?” she asked, avoiding any reply to his remark. “Well enough until _they_ came,” was the curt retort. “I am sorry if you do not like my new friends, papa, but I thought you used to admire Mr. Tressalia,” Editha returned, a little spirit of mischief prompting the last half of her remark. “He is well enough, only, according to my way of looking at things, it does not seem just the thing for him to be hanging around you all the time and running after you as if you belonged to him,” Mr. Dalton said, crossly.