Perfectly astonished, I listened to her remarks, giving her the credit of meaning what she said, and for the first time in my life, I felt as I suppose folks must feel who think they are handsome! After this little storm was over, she evidently exerted herself to be agreeable for a few moments, and then rather abruptly asked me how old I was.
“Not quite eighteen!” she repeated in some surprise. “Why I supposed you were twenty-five at least! Don’t you think she looks older than Ada?” turning to Lina, who answered quickly, “Oh, no, mother, nothing like as old. Why, I shouldn’t think her over seventeen at the most.”
Now among my other misfortunes I numbered that of “looking old as the hills,” so I didn’t care particularly for what they said, though it struck me as rather singular that Mrs. Lansing should thus discuss me in my presence; but this thought was lost in the more absorbing one as to who the Ada could be of whom she had spoken. Possibly it was Ada Montrose, though I ardently hoped to the contrary, for well I knew there was no happiness for me where she was. Thinking it would be on a par with the questions put to me, I was on the point of asking who Ada was, when we were summoned to supper, which consisted mostly of broiled chickens, strong coffee, iced milk, egg bread, and hoecakes, if I except the row of sables who grouped themselves around the table, and the feather girl, whose efforts to keep awake amused me so much that I almost forgot to eat. We were nearly through when a handsome mulatto boy entered and handed a letter to his mistress, which she immediately opened, holding it so that the address could be read by Halbert, who, after spelling it out, exclaimed, “That’s from Uncle Dick, I know!”
“Is he coming home?” asked Jessie, dropping her knife and fork, while even Lina, who seldom evinced much interest in anything, roused up and repeated the question which Jessie had asked.
“Yes. He is in New York now,” said Mrs. Lansing; “and will be here in a week.”
“Good!” exclaimed Halbert.
“Oh, I’m right glad,” said Jessie, while Lina asked if Ada was with him.
“No,” returned Mrs. Lansing. “She is still in Paris with her cousin, and will not return until autumn.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Lina, to which Hal rejoined, “And so am I. She’s so proud and stuck up, I can’t bear her.”
“Children, children,” spoke Mrs. Lansing, rather sternly, at the same time rising from the table.