"Yes, dear, I dare say we do. We want to save you a number of vexations which we had to bear ourselves; but I am afraid you will not let us." As Mrs. Arundel finished speaking, a bright girl of about twenty entered, followed by two little maidens of nearly seven and eight years respectively. "Here you are!" exclaimed Ada, starting up. "I have been longing for you so; but this last hour I had forgotten all about you, I have been so busy reading." "Yes, here we are," answered Nellie, coming forward and kissing her step-mamma. "We have had such a nice time; but how are all at home?" "Oh, pretty well, dear. We missed you sadly though." Nellie shook her head, and bent down to warm her hands, while the little girls began to throw off their wraps, and were drawing their chairs close to the warm blaze, when Nellie interposed— "We must go up and take off our things, dears. It is of no use to settle down for a chat till we have got ready for tea. Come along." Netta and Isabel gathered up their hats and jackets and hastened after their half-sister, only anxious to get back again as quickly as possible to their mamma and the fire. "Now," said Ada, resuming her semi-grumble, "would you not say, mamma, that that was rather exasperating, if you didn't know that it really was the best to do?" "That? What do you mean?" "Why, Nellie walking those children off, and not saying a word. Don't you think we should all have enjoyed ourselves infinitely more if we had settled down to a chat then and there?" "Perhaps—" said Mrs. Arundel, hesitating. "Only, you see, Ada, I know so well that it is the right thing, that I am not a fair judge." "So do I," said Ada, half smiling. "Of course I know it; for instead of sitting and spoiling their hats, and rumpling their jackets, and scorching their best boots, and having after all to turn out and go upstairs, and dreading all the time that you would tell them to go, they will now come down warm and tidy and fresh, and they will sit here for ever so long, and be quite happy, and tell you all their doings without a break, and will feel besides that they had done right; and yet, mamma, I'd have sat here all the same, if I had been allowed, and faced the disagreeable for the sake of the luxury!" Mrs. Arundel looked rather pained, and Ada leant over and gave her a warm kiss. "You're a dear, good, sweet mother. And now I've done grumbling, and will be a good girl." She closed her tempting book precipitately, drew from her pocket some tatting, and pushing her chair a little to one side to make room for the others when they came down, she commenced working. Some readers are already acquainted with the Arundels; but to those who do not yet know them, it may be explained that they were a large family, living in a square in the middle of London, round which their father's practice as a physician lay among both rich and poor.