All was pleasantness in the little party for about an hour, when the children were called to tea. I did not go to the table till they were seated. When I did, I saw that there was a cloud on Ellen Leslie's face, but what had caused it I could not discover. When tea was over, the various entertainments of the evening commenced. On one side of the parlor, around a table, was seated a group of girls playing what they called an historical game—that is, amusing themselves with cards containing questions and answers on historical subjects. In this game, the questions were held by one person, and the cards containing the answers were distributed equally among the rest of the players. As a question was asked, any girl who found among her cards an answer which seemed to her the correct one, read it. Sometimes two or three would begin to read together, and so long as they could bear to be laughed at without losing their tempers, those who made the greatest mistakes, perhaps contributed most to the merriment of the party. At this game about eight or ten girls were engaged. A few others amused themselves with dissected maps, and the rest gathered together in one corner of the room with Emma's cups and saucers, baby-house and doll.
From the brightening up of Ellen Leslie's countenance when the historical cards were produced, and her evident desire to make one in that game, I had felt quite sure that she was well acquainted with its subjects, and so it proved. For some time her answers were ready and correct, while her laugh was first and loudest at the blunders made by others. At length, the questions seemed to relate to a portion of history on which Ellen was not so much at home, and once and again her answer was followed by a laugh. In the first laugh which she thus excited Ellen made a feeble effort to join, but it was very feeble. At the second, her face flushed, she looked gloomily down, and from that time, though she sat with the cards in her hands, she did not answer a question or take any part in the game. After a while some wonder was expressed that no answers could be found to several of the questions. All around the table carefully examined their cards and declared they did not have them, except Ellen—she remained silent, and held her cards without looking at them.
"Ellen, perhaps you have them," said Anna Melville.
"You can see," said Ellen, laying her cards down before Anna.
"Oh no!" said Anna quickly, "you look at them yourself."
"I do not suppose I should know the answers if I saw them," said Ellen sulkily; "and besides, I am tired playing," and she rose from the table. As she moved off to a distant part of the room and seated herself alone, I glanced at Mary and saw her eyes fixed on her sister with such an expression of sorrowing tenderness, that for her sake I determined to try whether I could not restore Ellen to a happier mood. I approached her with a book of prints, and seating myself near her, drew a stand towards us and invited her to look at them with me. She looked as if she would like to refuse, but ashamed probably to do this to one so much older than herself, she contented herself with remaining sulkily silent, scarcely glancing at first at the pictures as I turned the leaves and announced the different subjects. At length, however, some anecdote I told attracted her attention. She asked a question—she smiled—she laughed aloud. Again I turned my eyes upon Mary Leslie. She was looking at me with a countenance so full of thankfulness and lit up with so sweet a smile, that I no longer wondered at her young companions loving her so tenderly.
CHAPTER II.
THE SISTERS.
The next day an old gentleman, a Mr. Villars, dined at Mr. Melville's. Mr. Villars was a widower. His wife had been a sister of Mrs. Leslie, the mother of Mary and Ellen. She had been long dead, but having never married again, he had remained much attached to her family, and having had no children of his own, he had always taken a deep interest in Mary and Ellen, petting them quite as much and perhaps scolding them a little more than their father. He was a favorite with children generally, for he interested himself in their amusements and pursuits.