Clara soon after took her leave, and Ada and Mrs. Arundel were left alone. "You have mentioned Clara May often, Ada, but I did not picture her quite what she is." "How, mamma?" "I hope she will be a good friend for you, my child." "Why, yes, mamma, I hope so. She is a very nice girl, and all the others pay her a good deal of attention, and quite envy me her friendship." "Well, dear, I only want you to be on your guard; she seems pleasant enough." Mrs. Arundel spoke somewhat grudgingly, and Ada thought her unnecessarily cautious. The proposed call the next day, however, came to nothing, for Ada was detained at home with a bad cold; but the following week, she received an invitation to spend the evening at her friend's home in Eaton Square. "May I go, mamma?" asked Ada, while her mother was reading the note. "What does 'spend the evening' mean?" asked Mrs. Arundel. "I hardly know, but I should think they would be alone; but I can ask Clara." When she did ask Clara, she said, "It was just a few friends, nothing much, and you must come early, so that we can have a talk first." Ada's head was now full of what she should wear. She did not like to ask Clara, and before the eventful day, was quite worried with the subject. At last it was decided that she should put on her best Sunday dress. Her mamma would have advised her white muslin, but Ada thought it would be ridiculous if there were only one or two young ladies, and Mrs. Arundel did not press the matter. "You must have gloves, Ada," said her mother. "How horrid!" exclaimed Ada. "I do declare I shall feel so stuck-up." Arthur, who was doing his lessons at the table, looked up and laughed. Ada coloured with annoyance. "How I should like to peep in on you, and see you sitting as fine as possible, clasping your elegant gloves." "Hush, dear," said his mother. "Do not tease; your turn will come for this sort of thing some day." "Not I," answered Arthur, who, boy-like, supposed that he would never have to conform to the conventionalities of life. The day came at last, and Ada went to school as usual; but her mind was filled with thoughts of her coming treat. She met Clara just as she was entering the class-room, and looked into her face with questioning eyes. But Clara seemed exactly as usual, and was pre-occupied with her lessons. She hardly gave Ada a nod, but hurried off to her desk, and Ada followed with a sense of disappointment. The day's work was unusually heavy, and the two girls had hardly time to exchange a word. Clara did just say, at luncheon time, "You won't forget to-night, Ada?" "Oh no," answered Ada, wondering that Clara should think it likely. When Dr. Arundel came home from his afternoon rounds, before the carriage went to the stables, Ada was to be conveyed to Eaton Square. She came out into the hall at the sound of her father's latch-key, and he kissed her fondly.