“Helen, who are these Rumseys who seem to know us so well? I have no recollection of them,” interrupted her mother. “Really, mamma, I cannot tell,” replied Helen with a smile. “I think there must be a mistake—where did they say they had met us, Mrs. Grey?” Mrs. Grey then repeated all she had previously said, and added—“You must surely remember them, Helen, since I understand that the young Mr. Rumsey, Samuel Rumsey, junior, was your devoted cavalier.” Helen shook her head—“I do not think I can claim the gentleman as upon my list of admirers,” she said laughing; “and as for the young ladies, I have no recollection of them.” “Really, Helen,” said her mother, a little impatiently, “I wish you had been more discreet in your choice of associates, it is not pleasant to have one’s name connected with every ill-bred person whom you may meet at a watering-place. You must have had some intimacy with them, or they would not presume to mention you so familiarly.” “I assure you, mamma, that I made no acquaintance except with those whom you approved. Of the Rumseys I have not the slightest knowledge. I remember now, that the day before we left, our general picknick party was joined by a group who had arrived in the morning. The eldest lady answered to Mrs. Grey’s description of our unknown friend; she was accompanied by two younger ladies and a gentleman, whose style of appearance, as well as her own, was rather _outré_, and they were evidently strangers. One of the young ladies addressed a remark to me upon the beauty of the scenery, to which of course I replied, and the gentleman upon whose arm she leaned showed a desire to continue the conversation, but as I had not been introduced, and he was moreover, an ignorant, ill-bred person, I merely bowed and passed on. What their names were I cannot tell, but they might have been the Rumseys.” “Very likely,” said Mrs. Armitage, with a half smile, “but they say they came down with us, and seem to know me.” Helen laughed outright—“I remember that they were in the same car with us. Don’t you recollect, mamma, that a lady sitting behind you, very considerately pulled your shawl up on your shoulders, saying she feared you would take cold? That was the same person whom I supposed to be Mrs. Rumsey, and her polite son quite stared me out of countenance during the journey, while his sisters seemed comparing notes together.” “Taking an inventory of your dress and charms, Helen, that they might be able to describe you correctly,” laughed Mrs. Grey, who began to enter into the spirit of the affair, and was a good deal amused at her friend’s evident annoyance. “But really,” she continued, “you should not have cut your brother’s college chum so decidedly. I understood that Harry and the young Rumsey were a second Damon and Pythias.”