Driving slowly along while the coachman ruminated, Agnes and Marian, in awe and astonishment, looked in each other’s faces--then they put up their hands simultaneously to their faces, which were a little heated with the extreme confusion, embarrassment, and wonder of the last two hours--lastly, they both fell into a little outburst of low and somewhat tremulous laughter--laughing in a whisper, if that is possible--and laughing, not because they were very merry, but because, in their extreme amazement, no other expression of their sentiments occurred to them. Were they two enchanted princesses? and had they been in fairyland? “Oh Agnes!” exclaimed Marian under her breath, “what will mamma say?” “I do not think mamma can be angry,” said Agnes, who had gained some courage, “for I am sure we could not help ourselves. What could we do?--but when they see us coming home like this--oh May!” There was another pause. “I wonder very much what she has written. We have never heard of her,” said Marian, “and yet I suppose she must be quite a great author. How respectful Mr Burlington was! I am afraid it will not be good for you, Agnes, that we live so much out of the world--you ought to know people’s names at least.” Agnes did not dispute this advantage. “But I don’t quite think she can be a great author,” said the young genius, looking somewhat puzzled, “though I am sure she was very kind--how kind she was, Marian! And do you think she really wants us to go on Thursday? Oh, I wonder what mamma will say!”