"Thoughtful of others still," reflected Ida, as the girl Sally displayed a double row of ivories, at Carry's apology. "Can nothing make her selfish?"
"We won't waste time by an elaborate toilet, dear," said Carry, seeing Ida deliberating upon two dresses. "Father will be too much engaged with his supper to notice our dress. Wear the plain white one; it is very becoming; and remember, you are in the back-woods."
Arthur was in the parlor when they descended. He looked as happy as Carry, and "almost as good," thought Ida. She was not de trop; it might have been a brother and sister who strove to convince her that this, their home, was hers for the time-being. The supper-table was set with taste and profusion. Ida wondered whether the ménage were entirely controlled by coloured servants. She learned afterwards that "Mammy," trained by Mrs. Carleton, and until that lady's death, her constant attendant, was housekeeper.
"You have not much affection for a city life, Miss Ida," said Arthur, continuing a conversation commenced in the parlor.
"No. I am country-bred, and cherish a preference for the scenes of my childhood. Perhaps," she said, ingenuously, "the fault is in myself. I did not want to live in Richmond, and determined not to like it."
"And are your aversions so strong that the manifold attractions of the metropolis cannot shake them? or, are you countrified upon principle?"
"I have not given the city a fair trial. It has occurred to me lately that my weariness of it proceeded from monotony rather than satiety. There is little variety in school life."
"Except when we regard it as the world in miniature," said Arthur. "It is different, doubtless, in 'Young Lady Establishments,' but we boys contrived to maintain a healthy circulation, one way or another."
"Is it not a popular fallacy that school-days are the happiest of one's life?" asked Ida.