Forgetting in his anger that Mr. Belden had any grounds for such uncourteous treatment, mortified, and disappointed, Auburn turned indignantly upon his heel and left the house—a merry laugh from the drawing-room ringing discordantly in his ear as he passed out. CHAPTER III. It was evening of the same eventful day in the history of our hero, that a merry little circle of young girls were assembled at Kate Kennedy’s; and to the amused group Miss Belden related the adventures of the morning, giving to the whole scene an effect so truly ludicrous, as elicited many a merry peal of laughter from her joyous listeners. Even Emma Willis, though made to figure so largely in the story, could not resist a smile at the ridiculous light in which she was shown up by her provokingly mischievous cousin. “And to think, after all,” cried Kate, “that this sudden conquest has been achieved by a simple country girl—our own blushing Emma here, who never before even lost sight of her lambs and chickens. Why, from your grandiloquent description, Margaret, I should not wonder if he should prove some foreign count.” “Or a play-actor, from his tragic air,” said another. “Or a poet,” cried a third. “Or a fugitive from the Insane Hospital,” added a fourth. “Or a writer of romances, stealing his characters from real life. I’ll warrant his name to be Adolphus Gustavus Augustus Fitz—something or other—” “O, no,” interrupted Miss Belden, “his name is a thousand times prettier than any of your _Sts._ and _Fitz._—it is Auburn—Henry C. Auburn.” “_Henry C. Auburn!_” screamed Kate. “Say that again, Margaret! Henry C. Auburn!—delightful!” and bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, the little gypsy clapped her hands, and danced about the room apparently in an ecstasy of delight. The next moment she vanished from the room, and hastily dispatched the following note to the lodgings of Auburn. “Dear Cousin Harry— “One so imperturbable to all the blandishments of beauty; one who has sworn fealty to pencil and pallet, and jests at all the powers of Cupid, can surely fear no danger in coming hither this evening, even though to meet the charming friend of whom I told you this morning. I therefore once more entreat, nay, I command your presence, though at the eleventh hour. I will only hint that if you come you may not leave town to-morrow. In haste, “Kate.” Auburn received the note, but, ingrate that he was to his pretty cousin, and feeling in no amiable mood of mind, he returned this brief reply. “Dear Kate— “I cannot come—I told you so. Don’t annoy me any more about your ‘_charming friend_.’ I hate all women but you! Kate, I go to-morrow. “Harry.”