“Why, I called upon Mrs. Leonard, this morning,” replied her guest, “and there met your friend Mrs. Rumsey, who came down in the cars with your party; she said she had just parted with you, and on that hint I rushed off, regardless of etiquette, that I might give you the warm welcoming I felt.” Mrs. Armitage pressed her friend’s hand in acknowledgment, and then with a puzzled look exclaimed: “Mrs. Rumsey! Who in the name of wonder is she? I know no person of that name, neither have I any recollection of it.” “Not know her!” ejaculated Mrs. Grey, now surprised in turn. “Not know her!—impossible! Why she was entertaining Mrs. Leonard with a long account of your sayings and doings, and went off in ecstasies over Helen’s beauty and musical talent.” “Very strange!” repeated the other lady, musingly. “Mrs. Rumsey—Rumsey—I cannot remember any such person. However, there were so many people at the hotel that I did not see half of them, and of course only made acquaintance with those who pleased me. Certainly this Mrs. Rumsey was not among the number.” “Well, you certainly must have had some conversation with her,” said Mrs. Grey, “else she would not have repeated remarks that you made to her, and beside she told us how very intimate Helen was with her daughters, and what delightful strolls you all took together. Perhaps you have not heard her name aright?” “Perhaps not,” answered Mrs. Armitage; “what kind of looking person is she?” “Oh!” replied her friend, smiling, “she has not much in appearance to delight one, certainly, though her _tout ensemble_ is rather striking, and I should think not easily forgotten. She is rather short, and rather thin, with a quantity of light frizzed curls, surmounted with pink flowers and marabout feathers—she seems to make up in drapery what she lacks in solidity, and wears deep flounces, and a quantity of lace trimming, beside a very elegant watch and chatelaine. Altogether, she was rather over-dressed, but must be of some standing, for I heard her mention many of our first families in the most familiar manner.” “And perhaps with no more claim to their acquaintance than she has to mine,” replied Mrs. Armitage in a provoked tone, for she prided herself a little upon her rank in the world of fashion. “I am sure I have no acquaintance with the person whom you describe, and as for her daughters—but here comes Helen, let her answer for herself.” As she spoke Helen Armitage entered the room. She was a graceful, beautiful girl of eighteen, with a decided style, though quiet in manner, and justified the proud glance which her mother bestowed upon her, as she advanced to welcome Mrs. Grey, who was deservedly loved by all the family. “My dear Helen how well you are looking,” exclaimed their visiter. “Really you fully deserve all the encomiums that I have heard lavished upon you this morning by the mother of your friends, the Miss Rumseys.”