"Oh, mother, mother!" said Ada joyfully, "where did you get them?" "I know," answered Mrs. Harcourt, "and that is enough." After a moment's thought Ada knew, too. The little hoard of money her mother had laid by for a warm winter shawl had been spent for her. From Ada's lustrous blue eyes the tears were dropping as, twining her arm around her mother's neck, she said, "Naughty, naughty mother!" but there was a knock at the door. The sleigh which Anna Graham had promised to send for Ada had come; so dashing away her tears, and adjusting her new mitts and pin, she was soon warmly wrapped up, and on her way to Mr. Graham's. "In the name of the people, who is that?" said Lucy Dayton, as Anna Graham entered the dressing-room, accompanied by a bundle of something securely shielded from the cold. The removal of the hood soon showed Lucy who it was, and with an exclamation of surprise she turned inquiringly to a young lady who was standing near. To her look the young lady replied, "A freak of Anna's, I suppose. She thinks a great deal of those Harcourts." An impatient "pshaw!" burst from Lucy's lips, accompanied with the words, "I wonder who she thinks wants to associate with that plebeian!" The words, the look, and the tone caught Ada's eye and ear, and instantly blighted her happiness. In the joy and surprise of receiving an invitation to the party it had never occurred to her that she might be slighted there, and she was not prepared for Lucy's unkind remark. For an instant the tears moistened her long silken eyelashes, and a deeper glow mantled her usually bright cheek; but this only increased her beauty, which tended to increase Lucy's vexation. Lucy knew that in her own circle there was none to dispute her claim; but she knew, too, that in a low-roofed house, in the outskirts of the town, there dwelt a poor sewing woman, whose only daughter was famed for her wondrous beauty. Lucy had frequently seen Ada in the streets, but never before had she met her, and she now determined to treat her with the utmost disdain. Not so was Lizzie affected by the presence of "the plebeian." Mrs. Harcourt had done plain sewing for her father, and Lizzie had frequently called there for the work. In this way an acquaintance had been commenced between herself and Ada which had ripened into friendship. Lizzie, too, had heard the remark of her sister, and, anxious to atone as far as possible for the unkindness, she went up to Ada, expressed her pleasure at seeing her there, and then, as the young ladies were about descending to the parlors, she offered her arm, saying, "I will accompany you down, but, I have no doubt scores of beaus will quickly take you off my hands."