"You are bent upon convincing me that all the obligation is on your side," returned Ida: "but compare the mermaid-like fright which shocked you, with the decent young lady before you now, and recollect that my gratitude is proportionate to the improvement."
A pretty little girl, about five years old, crept into the room.
"Come to aunt, Elle!" said Carry. "And speak to this lady."
The child came up timidly to Ida, and slid her plump hand into hers. She did not struggle, as she lifted her into her lap, but looked steadfastly at her with her soft black eyes. "What is your name?" asked Ida.
"Elinor Dana," she answered, in her clear, childish voice.
"Elinor!" repeated Ida, and the little one felt herself pressed more closely to her breast."
"Do you like it?" inquired Carry.
"It was my mother's name!" was the low reply. Elle put up her lips for a kiss. She saw a pained look flit over the countenance of the visitor, and administered the only panacea she possessed.
"Is she your sister's oldest child?" asked Ida, repaying the caress.