He was evidently pleased, and this was a sufficient reason for ’Lina to speak of returning. She would not hasten Mr. Stanley, she said, but Irving arose at once and bidding Alice good night, accompanied the ladies back to Union hall, where Mrs. Richards sat fanning herself industriously, and watching John with motherly interest as he sauntered from one group of ladies to another, wondering what made Saratoga so dull, and where Miss Worthington had gone. It is not to be supposed that Dr. Richards cared a fig for Miss Worthington as _Miss Worthington_. It was simply her immense figure he admired, and as, during the evening, he had heard on good authority that said figure was made up mostly of cotton growing on some Southern field, the exact locality of which his informant did not know, he had decided that of course Miss ’Lina’s fortune was over estimated. Such things always were, but still she must be wealthy. He had no doubt of that, and he might as well devote himself to her as to wait for some one else. Accordingly, the moment he spied her in the crowd he joined her, asking if they should not take a little turn up and down the piazza. “Wait till I ask mamma’s permission to stay up a little longer. She always insists upon my keeping such early hours,” was ’Lina’s very filial and childlike reply as she walked up to mamma, not to ask permission, but to whisper rather peremptorily, “Dr. Richards wishes me to walk with him, and as you are tired you may as well go to bed.” Mrs. Worthington was tired, but motherlike, she thought it would be pleasant to stay where she could see her daughter walking with Dr. Richards, and then, too, she wanted to hear the band playing in the court. “Oh, I ain’t very tired,” she said. “I begin to feel rested, and I guess I’ll set a little while with Mrs. Richards on the sofa yonder. She seems like one of our folks.” ’Lina did not care to leave her truthful, matter-of-fact mother with Mrs. Richards, so she said, rather angrily, “How do you know Mrs. Richards wants you to sit by her? She has her own set, and you are not much acquainted; besides, I shall feel easier to know you are up stairs. Go, do. He’s waiting for me,” and in the black eyes there was a gleam which Mrs. Worthington always obeyed. With a sigh, and a lingering glance at the comfortable sofa, where Mrs. Richards sat in solemn state, she left the comparatively cool parlor, and climbing the weary flights of stairs, entered her hot, sultry room, and laying her head upon the table, cried a grieved kind of cry, as she recalled ’Lina’s selfishness and evident desire to be rid of her.