“Not quite eighteen!” she repeated in some surprise. “Why I supposed you were _twenty-five_ at least! Don’t you think she looks older than _Ada_?” turning to Lina, who answered quickly, “Oh, no, mother, nothing like as old. Why, I shouldn’t think her over seventeen at the most.” Now among my other misfortunes I numbered that of “looking old as the hills,” so I didn’t care particularly for what they said, though it struck me as rather singular that Mrs. Lansing should thus discuss me in my presence; but this thought was lost in the more absorbing one as to _who_ the _Ada_ could be of whom she had spoken. Possibly it was Ada Montrose, though I ardently hoped to the contrary, for well I knew there was no happiness for me where she was. Thinking it would be on a par with the questions put to me, I was on the point of asking who _Ada_ was, when we were summoned to supper, which consisted mostly of broiled chickens, strong coffee, iced milk, egg bread, and hoecakes, if I except the row of sables who grouped themselves around the table, and the _feather girl_, whose efforts to keep awake amused me so much that I almost forgot to eat. We were nearly through when a handsome mulatto boy entered and handed a letter to his mistress, which she immediately opened, holding it so that the address could be read by Halbert, who, after spelling it out, exclaimed, “That’s from Uncle Dick, I know!” “Is he coming home?” asked Jessie, dropping her knife and fork, while even Lina, who seldom evinced much interest in anything, roused up and repeated the question which Jessie had asked. “Yes. He is in New York now,” said Mrs. Lansing; “and will be here in a week.” “Good!” exclaimed Halbert. “Oh, I’m right glad,” said Jessie, while Lina asked if _Ada_ was with him. “No,” returned Mrs. Lansing. “She is still in Paris with her cousin, and will not return until autumn.” “I’m glad of that,” said Lina, to which Hal rejoined, “And so am I. She’s so proud and stuck up, I can’t bear her.” “Children, children,” spoke Mrs. Lansing, rather sternly, at the same time rising from the table. It was not yet sunset; and as soon as we were again assembled upon the piazza, Halbert and Jessie, who were never still, asked permission to “run up to Uncle Dick’s, and tell the servants he was coming home.” Mrs. Lansing made no objection; and then they proposed that I should accompany them. Feeling that a walk would do me good, I turned towards Mrs. Lansing, for her consent. It was given, of course; but had I known her better I should have detected a shade of displeasure on her face. “You had better go too,” said she to Lina; but Lina was too listless and indolent, and so we went without her, little Jessie holding my hand, and jumping instead of walking. “Eva’s mighty lazy,” said she, at last; “don’t you think so!” “Who’s lazy?” I asked; and she replied—