Here Ada, who was not in the least prepared for the occasion, began to stammer out something about “letting the matter drop—she did not wish to harm me, and had said what she did inadvertently, without ever dreaming of making trouble. She didn’t see why Richard wished to make it such a serious matter, for she was sure _she_ didn’t care whether I were _forty_ or _eighteen_.” “But _I_ care,” he said, grasping my arm still tighter, “_I_ care to have justice done. I have supposed Miss Lee to be frank, ingenuous and truthful, and if what you assert is true, she is the reverse, and should suffer accordingly, while on the contrary if she be innocent, she shall have an opportunity of proving herself so.” By this time Ada had collected her scattered senses, and resolving to brave the storm she had raised, replied, “Certainly, Miss Lee has a right to clear herself if she can, and prove that she _is_ really _Rose_ instead of _Anna_ Lee.” “_Rose_ instead of _Anna_! What do you mean?” thundered Mr. Delafield, while _I_ was too much astonished to speak. Ada was not very _deep_, and in all her plotting she had never thought how easy it would be for me to prove the falsity of her assertion by writing home; so with the utmost coolness she replied, “I mean this:—there were _two Lee girls_ living at the house of their uncle where I occasionally visited: one was _Anna_, a young lady of twenty-two or twenty-three, the other was _Rose_, a school-girl of fourteen or fifteen. The oldest of these two I have every reason to believe stands before us—at least _this_, which I found upon the stairs, would indicate as much,” and she held to view the handkerchief which I had dropped and had not missed. Glancing at the name, Mrs. Lansing said, “I have observed a similar mark upon several of her garments, and rather wondered at it.” This was true, for Anna had dealt generously with me, giving me many of her clothes, some of which bore her full name, while others had merely the initials. I was about to tell of this, when Mr. Delafield prevented me by asking if I could prove that I was what I represented myself to be, and that I was a mere school-girl when I saw Miss Montrose in Boston. “Yes, sir, I can,” I answered firmly; “by writing home, I can prove it, if in no other way. But Miss Montrose knows better than to confound me with _Anna_, whom she surely has reason for remembering.” Fearful lest her darling secret was about to be divulged, Ada roused up and in a tone of angry defiance, answered, “Yes, I have reason for remembering you, for you did me good service by taking off my hands a worthless, drunken fellow, about whom the Bostonians were annoying me. I thank you for it, Miss Lee, and only wonder how you could suppose I would forget you. I recognized you the moment we met at the table, but I did not then dream of your calling yourself _eighteen_ when you are certainly _twenty-six_!”