"Not the least, papa."
Dr. Arundel was silent for some minutes, and then he said, "It is very important what friends we make, dear. A good friend or a bad friend may influence our whole lives. Did you ever ask God about her, Ada?"
"I don't think I ever did, papa," she answered sorrowfully.
"What made you like her at first?"
"She was always so pleasant and gay, and I do like fun, you know, papa; and she used to tell us about her picnics and parties, and as she liked me, I was rather—you know what I mean, papa—rather proud to be singled out by her."
"I know it all, dear," he answered tenderly.
Ada nestled closer to him. "Dear papa, I feel that I have been so thoughtless and wrong, and I know it is my own fault that has brought me into this trouble."
"Poor little Ada!"
"I know, papa, Clara did not mean beforehand to be unkind; but I can't help thinking that she knew you would not have liked me to go to such a party."
"Very likely, dear; and here we are at home. But one word, dear Ada. I am not sorry this has happened before you got entangled more. Such a friend might have led you into very serious trouble. I thank God we have discovered it thus soon."