Mrs. Laurence came into the room, stiff and cold as marble. The softening effects of her illness had worn off, and so had the little gleam of sunshine, brought to her door by the kind woman who was calling her from the kitchen, to which she had retreated the moment Mrs. Carter became interested in Ruth; thus she was entirely ignorant of the event which had so suddenly lifted the invalid into Paradise. “I had something to do,” she said, by way of grim apology, as Mrs. Carter held out her hand. “Never mind that! I know what it is to do my own work—don’t I, Smith?” “I should rather think so,” answered Mrs. Smith, glowing with intense satisfaction. “With regard to the young lady, of course, we shall expect her. I will send the carriage round, and Ross shall come with it. Be sure that she is ready. He has set his heart upon it, and so have I.” Mrs. Laurence muttered something about being hard-working people, and quite out of such things; but Ruth interposed, and made confident by the money under her pillow lifted her radiant face, and said, with, a thrill of triumph in her voice, “Oh, yes, mother, dear! Eva will go. She will like it. Please do not refuse till we have talked it over.” “That’s right! I leave it all with you, my pretty darling; so, good-day; I mean to call again, very soon. Come, Mrs. Smith, we’ll drive round the block, and see how you like it,” said Mrs. Carter. CHAPTER XIX. MR. BATTLES IS DISGUSTED. Mrs. Smith settled her shawl with great anxiety, and going up to the little mirror, smoothed out the bows of her bonnet-strings, which certainly appeared all the better for it. Then the two old friends went out together, and the tall footman came down from his seat with a thunder-cloud on his august brow, and opened the carriage-door with a protest in every gesture. At this Mrs. Carter chuckled inwardly, and gave Mrs. Smith the seat of honor. She, good soul, drew a deep, deep breath, as her calico-dress came into contact with the bright silken cushions, and sat bolt upright, as if afraid that their yielding springs would swallow her up, and leave Jerusha Maria an orphan. “Dear me, how it gives!” she said, casting a half frightened look at her old friend, who laughed with glee, and leaned back in her own luxurious corner triumphing greatly while the carriage moved on. The ride was brief but glorious. Seldom did a turn out of that description come within blocks and blocks of the corner grocery. Mrs. Smith had the satisfaction of knowing that every window, which bore upon that point, was occupied when she came through the carriage-door and swept into her husband’s place of business, side by side with that gorgeously-dressed lady.