Mrs. Darrington easily divined that Ada’s embarrassment had special reference to _her_ presence; so she smilingly extended her hand, and as Ada advanced with sheepish mien and awkward gait, she kissed her and said, “I am glad to find you so merry, Ada. What a nice romp you must have had under those shady trees.” At so gracious an opening, Catharine’s head appeared above the frame of the _causeuse_, but seeing Mrs. Darrington look toward her, down it popped again. Mrs. Darrington saw her plainly enough; but she resisted her inclination to laugh, and went on. “I want you to come and spend to-morrow with me, and I shall stop on my way home at Mrs. Ashton’s to ask if Catharine may come with you.” In her joy, Catharine nearly upset the _causeuse_, which rocked as if a little earthquake were taking place under it. “But I came this morning especially to tell you a piece of news.” At this, Catharine could hold out no longer; not only her curly head, but her entire self, emerged from concealment, and she slided, as she imagined, unobserved, into a seat. “We are going away for awhile, Ada,” resumed Mrs. Darrington, “and I have various commissions to intrust to you. Will you do them?” “Yes, ma’am.” “I want you to take care of Hector and Fleeta,” continued Mrs. Darrington. Hector and Fleeta! Then James was going too! Ada longed to ask where, and for how long, but she dared not; and Mrs. Darrington, seeing her large eyes ready to overflow, merely added that they would speak more on that subject on the morrow. She then spoke a few words to Catharine, repeated her invitation, and drove off. “Where are they going, mamma?” asked poor Ada, the moment Mrs. Darrington left the room. “To France, my love.” “To France?” gasped Ada, to whom a voyage to Europe, or a voyage to the North Pole, was equally terrific. “Yes, dear,” said her mother, “and I am not surprised that you are sorry to part with Mrs. Darrington and James, who are so kind to you.” This at once relieved Ada from any obligation to contend with her grief; and using her mother’s sympathy as a _carte blanche_ for any amount of tears, she burst into a violent fit of crying, in which she was joined by the sympathising Catharine. Mrs. Somers, not feeling disposed to make a third in this _jérémiade_, left them to weep in concert, which they did for some time _à qui mieux mieux_. At length Ada dried her eyes, whereupon Catharine, who for some minutes had been squeezing hers to little purpose, quickly did the same; and after both had drawn a long breath, and had held up their handkerchiefs to see how much they had cried, Catharine thought it time to administer consolation. “Never mind, Ada, when James is gone, brother George will ride with us. He is coming home next month.” Conceive this, ye who have loved! The audacity of one’s bosom friend proposing some uninteresting brother as a substitute for one’s lover!