Her next remark was a proposal that Herbert should that afternoon take her out to ride; but to this he made some objection; whereupon she pretended to be angry, leaning back on the sofa and muttering that “she didn’t believe he cared a bit for her, and he might as well confess it at once.”
Here the dinner bell rang, and offering his arm to the pouting beauty, Herbert led her to the dining-room, where she was soon restored to good humor by my aunt, who lavished upon her the utmost attention, humoring every whim, and going so far as to prepare for her four different cups of black tea, which had been ordered expressly for her, and to which she objected as being too hot, or too cold—too weak or too strong. It took but a short time to show that she was a spoiled baby, good natured only when all the attention was lavished upon her, and when her wishes were paramount to all others.
Dinner being over, Herbert did not, as was his usual custom, return to the parlor; but taking his hat he went out into the street, in spite of his mother’s whispered effort to keep him at home. This, of course, vexed the little lady, and after thrumming a few notes upon the piano, she announced her intention of returning home, saying that “she wished she had not come.” At this moment the door-bell rang, and some young ladies came in to call upon Anna. They seemed surprised at finding Ada there, and after inquiring for her health, one of them said, “Do tell us Ada, who that gentleman was that came and went so slily, without our ever seeing him? Mrs. Cameron says he was from Georgia, and that is all we know about him. Who was he?”
Ada started, and turning slightly pale, replied, “What do you mean? I’ve seen no gentleman from Georgia. Where was he? and when was he here?”
“As much as three weeks or more ago,” returned Miss Marvin. “He stopped at the Revere House, and Mrs. Cameron, who boards there, got somewhat acquainted with him.”
“Mrs. Cameron!” repeated Ada, turning alternately red and white. “And pray what did she say?”
I fancied there was a spice of malice in Miss Marvin’s nature; at least, she evidently wished to annoy Ada, for she replied, “She said he was ugly looking, though quite distingué; that he came in the afternoon, while she was in the public parlor talking with a lady about you and your engagement with Mr. Langley!”
“The hateful old thing!” muttered Ada, while Anna turned white as marble, and Miss Marvin continued—“When the lady had gone he begged pardon for the liberty, but asked her if she knew you. Of course, she told him she did, and gave him any further information which she thought would please him.”
“Of course she did—the meddling widow!” again interrupted Ada; after which Miss Marvin proceeded—“Mrs. Cameron didn’t mean to do anything wrong, for how could she guess that ’twould affect him in any way to know you were engaged?”
“And she told him I was engaged! It isn’t so. I ain’t,” exclaimed Ada, while the angry tears dropped from her glittering eyes.