The two school girls dined at home that evening by permission of their teacher, and their eager chatter and merry laughter filled up the pauses that would otherwise have been so embarrassing. One of the girls, Nina by name, was of the same age as Molly, the other one was sixteen, and her sweet name, Dora, had been shortened to Dot. Nina and Dot were pretty, impulsive girls, warm-hearted to a fault, and although they had been told Molly’s story they did not resent it as did the older members of the family. They thought and declared that it was too “romantic for anything.” When they left their father and brother over the wine and walnuts they each slipped an arm in Molly’s and led her to the parlor and to a sofa, where they placed her between them. “Now, let us have a real good chat,” said Dot. “School closes next month, you know, and then we are all going back to the United States. Dear old Maple Shade and black mammy, I do really long to see them again, don’t you, Nina?” “Yes, indeed.” “Are you glad we are going home, Lou--oh, I beg pardon, I forgot,” Dot cried, tenderly, as the hot flush mounted to Molly’s cheek. “It does not matter,” the latter said, sadly, and Nina exclaimed: “Do you know I think that your middle name--Ernestine--is beautiful? May we not call you by that? It is softer, I think, than the other.” “As you please,” Molly answered, and Mrs. Laurens said, coldly: “I think it will be a good idea, Nina. Ernestine is a more aristocratic name. I’m glad you suggested it.” Then Dot began again: “Are you glad, Ernestine, that we are going home so soon?” “I did not know we were going,” she replied, faintly, wondering if Cecil was going to send her home alone. Mrs. Laurens moved a little nearer, and said, in her usual cold tones: “It is principally on your account we are going, that your child may be born at Maple Shade, where all the Laurens family have been born for almost a century.” Cecil in entering noiselessly that moment caught the words clearly. He could not repress a quick glance at his wife. He saw the pale face flush to hot, burning crimson one moment, then grow pale and sorrowful again as she put up one hand to shield its emotion from Mrs. Laurens’ cold eyes. She was about to speak, but at that moment she caught the inquisitive glance of his eyes and the words died unuttered on her lips. At that moment the loud ringing of the door-bell announced visitors. In a minute more the Barrys were announced. Louise all in opera dress with diamonds on her neck and in her hair looked radiant. Mrs. Barry in gray satin and ostrich plumes was sulky. “I shall be glad to get Louise married off my hands,” she exclaimed, tartly. “Here I am dragged out of the house every evening to balls and operas at my time of life until I am nearly dead. Mrs. Laurens, I think I shall have to ask you to chaperone my giddy niece!” “Cruel Aunt Thalia!” cried Louise, affecting to take it all as a joke.