"Oh, Mrs. Gordon, such a droll character!" cried a flower girl, pressing her way to the hostess; "a postman with bundles of letters, real letters; you never saw anything like it. I'm sure Mr. Willis and some other poets here, that I could point out, have had a hand in getting up this mail, for some of the letters are full of delightful poetry. Only look here, isn't this sweet?"
The girl held up an open paper, in which half a dozen lines of poetry were visible.
"Read it aloud—read it aloud," cried several voices at once. "No one has secrets here!"
"Oh, I wouldn't for anything," answered the young lady, tossing the flowers about in her basket, with a simper; "Mrs. Gordon won't insist, I am sure."
Ada saw what was expected of her, and held the letter aloof, when the young lady made feints at snatching it away.
"But what if Mrs. Gordon does insist?" she said. "The postman has no business to bring letters here that are not for the public amusement."
"Well, now, isn't it too bad," cried the flower girl, striving to conceal her satisfaction with a pout. "I am sure it's not my fault."
"Read, read," cried voices from the crowd.
"No," said Ada, weary with the scene, and mischievously inclined to punish the girl for her affectation; "all amusement must be voluntary here."
The young lady took her note with a pout that was genuine, this time, and hid it in her basket.