"It is a very kind letter," said Mrs. Churchill, as she glanced back to the beginning; "very kind, indeed, and you are all interested in it. Mr. Rutledge says that he has been detained at his place several weeks longer than he had anticipated, and there is now a prospect of his being obliged to remain till possibly the middle of summer; in which event, he thinks that we could not do a kinder thing than come and pay him a visit. He describes the country as looking very delightfully, and promises all sorts of rural amusements if we will come; and, by way of insuring the enjoyment of the young ladies, he begs we will make up a party to accompany us, and suggests the Wynkars, Mr. Reese, Captain McGuffy, Phil, of course, and any one else we may choose to ask. He is really very urgent, and begs we will not refuse to enliven the gloomy old mansion with our presence for awhile. He puts it entirely into my hands, and begs I will invite whom I choose." "Delightful!" exclaimed Josephine. "Mamma, could anything be nicer?" "Mr. Rutledge is 'a gentleman and a scholar,'" said Grace; "he ought to be encouraged. You'll accept, of course?" "_Cela dépend_," said her mother, thoughtfully. "Oh, mamma!" cried Josephine, "you cannot dream of refusing. What possible objection can there be? We do not want to go to Newport before the middle of July, and of course we can't stay in town all through June. This is the very thing; and you know I'd rather go to Rutledge than any other place in the world. Surely, mamma, you cannot think of refusing." "There are a great many things to be considered, my dear." "Ah," cried Grace, with unusual animation, "there'll be no peace till you say, yes. I long to get out of this dusty city. What else does he say, mamma?" "Not much," answered her mother, glancing down the second page. "He says he only heard a few days ago of my niece's illness, which he hopes will not prove serious, and that a change of air, and return to the scene of her last year's convalescence will be of benefit to her." "How do you imagine he heard she had been sick?" asked Grace. "I haven't the least idea, I am sure," said Josephine. "It's of no great consequence, any way. But, mamma, who shall we ask? The captain, of course, and Phil, and, I suppose, the Wynkars; Ella will be delighted, no doubt, and think it's all on her account! And about Mr. Reese--he's such a tiresome old fogie, let's get somebody in his place." "Ask Victor Viennet," said Grace, "just to spite Ella Wynkar. You know she hates him. He's as nice as anybody." "I haven't quite made up my mind," said Josephine, with dignity. "Wait till I have made up mine," said her mother, quietly.