“I am happier here than I at first supposed it possible. The older ladies were so proud, that it made me very wretched, in spite of sweet Anna’s kindness. But there has come a perceptible change, and they now treat me civilly, if nothing more, while I do believe they are fond of Willie, and would miss him if he were gone.” Adah was right in this conjecture; for had it now been optional with the Misses Richards whether Willie should go or stay, they would have kept him there from choice so cheery and pleasant he made the house. Adah was still too pretty, too stylish, to suit their ideas of a servant; but when they found she did not presume at all on her good looks, but meekly kept her place, they dropped the haughty manner they had at first assumed, and treated her with civility if not with kindness. With Anna it was different. Won by Adah’s gentleness, and purity, she came at last to love her almost as much as if she had been a younger sister. Adah was not a servant to her, but a companion, a friend, with whom she daily held familiar converse, learning from her much that was good, and prizing her more and more as the winter weeks went swiftly by. She had also grown very confidential, telling Adah much of her past life, talking freely of Charlie Millbrook whose wife she had heard was dead, and for whose return to America she was hoping. She was talking of him one afternoon and blushing like a girl as Adah playfully suggested what might possibly ensue from his coming home, when her mother came in evidently annoyed and disturbed at something. “I have a letter from John,” she said. “They are to be married the —— day of April, which leaves us only five weeks more, as they will start at once for Terrace Hill. I am so bothered. I want to see you alone,” and she cast a furtive glance at Adah, who left the room, while madam plunged at once into the matter agitating her so much. She had fully intended going to Kentucky with her son. It would be a good opportunity for seeing the country, besides showing proper respect to her daughter-in-law, but ’Lina had objected, not in words, but in manner, objected, and the doctor had written, saying she must not go, at the same time urging upon her the necessity of having everything in perfect order, and in as good style as possible for his bride. “I have not the money myself,” he wrote, “and I’ll have to get trusted for my wedding suit, so you must appeal to Anna’s good nature for the wherewithal with which to fix the rooms. It’s downright mean, I know, but she’s the only one of the firm who has money. Do, pray, re-paper them; that chocolate color is enough to give one the blues; and get a carpet too, something lively and cheerful. She may stay with you longer than you anticipate. It is too expensive living here as she would expect to live. Nothing but Fifth Avenue Hotel would suit her, and I cannot ask her for funds at once. I’d rather come to it gradually.”