It came to them one sultry August morning, when the thermometer was 90 degrees in the shade, and the air was like a furnace even before nine o’clock. Breakfast was very late that morning, and Mrs. Tiffe was furious. She had committed the extravagance of broiled chicken and muffins, which of course were spoiled, and she had herself been up since four o’clock and was in a melting condition, in spite of the thinnest muslin she could find and the coolest garments she could wear. Miss Rossiter had not slept well, and, as was her custom after a restless night, she loitered in bed, and dawdled over her toilet and bath, and took so much time in dressing, that the clock was striking nine when she at last entered the dining-room, followed by the three girls and their governess, all panting and inveighing against the weather, except Emma. She liked it. Naturally chilly and cold, the heat suited her, and her face alone was pleasant and contented as she took her seat at the table and attacked the cold chicken and half-warm, heavy muffins, which her dyspeptic aunt could not eat. “Bring me a slice of dry toast,” Miss Rossiter said to Martha, the waitress, who, on returning with the toast, brought two letters for Miss Julia, bearing foreign post-marks. “From father and Godfrey,” Julia said. “Excuse me, please, while I read them.” Leaning back in her chair she broke the seal of her father’s first and read a few lines, then with a start which nearly upset her cup of chocolate, she exclaimed: “Oh, horrible, girls! Aunt Christine, listen,—father——” “Martha, you can go, now,” she said suddenly, remembering the girl, who departed to the kitchen, where the news was already known, and where the servants stood open-mouthed around Perry, who was reading the letter his master had sent to him. “What is it, Julia?” Miss Rossiter asked, when Martha was gone, and Julia, whose eyes had run at lightning speed over the contents of the letter, replied: “Father is going to be married to a Miss Edith Lyle, Aunt Sinclair’s hired companion. You remember he mentioned her once before as living at Oakwood. Hear what he says of her: ‘She is a lady of good family, the daughter of a clergyman, the friend and companion of my deceased sister, your late Aunt Sinclair. She possesses many accomplishments, and is what I consider a very remarkable personage.’ (How like father that sounds!) ‘And I expect that all due deference will be paid to her by _every member of my household_.’ (He has underscored that.) ‘Please break the news to your Aunt Christine, and tell Mrs. Tiffe to see that all the rooms in the south wing are made ready for Mrs. Schuyler. I have written to Perry about refurnishing them, but Tiffe must superintend it a little——’ “Oh, dreadful, I believe I am going to faint,—my hartshorn, Emma, please,” Miss Rossiter gasped. The hartshorn was found, and two palm-leaf fans were brought into requisition, and then Miss Rossiter spoke again, this time hysterically and in tears.