The kitchen Hebe of the morning was soon metamorphosed into a very charmingly costumed young woman.
Even Miss Ainsley was compelled to recognize the lovely and harmonious effect, although it did not bear the latest brand of fashion, or represent costly expenditure.
Both she and Mrs. Willoughby were pleased as Ella stepped lightly into the back parlor, and the young girl congratulated herself that she had come so opportunely, for they were evidently expecting visits like her own.
One and another dropped in until Mrs. Willoughby was entertaining three or four in the front parlor. Miss Ainsley remained chatting with Ella, who felt that the Northern girl's remarks were largely tentative, evincing a wish to draw her out. Shrewd Ella soon began to generalize to such a degree that Miss Ainsley thought, "You are no fool," and had a growing respect for the "little baker," as she had termed the young girl.
Then Clancy appeared, and Ella was forgotten, but she saw the same unmistakable welcome which from some women would mean all that a lover could desire. Ella thought that a slight expression of vexation crossed his brow as he recognized in her Mara's partner and friend, but he spoke to her politely and even cordially. Indeed, no one could do otherwise, for her face would propitiate an ogre. She thought there was a spice of recklessness in Clancy's manner, and she heard him remark to Miss Ainsley that he had come to say good-by for a short time. That young woman led the way to the balcony and began to expostulate; and then Ella's attention was riveted on a tall young fellow, who was shaking hands with Mrs. Willoughby.
"Good gracious!" she thought, "what can I do if he sees me? How can I 'shake off and avoid' in this back parlor? I can't make a bolt for the front door or sneak out of the back door; I can't sit here like a graven image if he comes—"
"Miss Bodine! Well, I'm lucky for once in my ill-fated life."
"Oh! I beg your pardon," remarked Ella, turning from the window, out of which she had apparently been gazing with intense preoccupation. "Good-afternoon, Mr. Houghton." But he held out his hand with such imperative cordiality that she had to take it. Then he drew up a chair to the corner of the sofa on which she sat and placed it in a way that barred approach or egress. "Oh, shade of Mrs. Hunter!" she groaned inwardly, "what can I do? I'm fairly surrounded—all avenues of retreat cut off. I must face the enemy and fight."
"I knew the chance would come for us to get acquainted," said Houghton, settling himself complacently in the great armchair, "but I had scarcely hoped for such a happy opportunity as this so soon."
"I must go in a few minutes," she remarked demurely. "I have been here some time."