A gayer party, bent on pleasure, never left the wharf than that now on board the steamer bound for Albany. It consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Castleton, Ruth Meredith and her friend Grace Fanshaw, with young Meredith, who had been coaxed by his sister to join the party, so that “they need be no trouble to Mr. Castleton.” He had consented, though voting it rather a “bore.” The presence of the pretty, winning, graceful Mrs. Castleton reconciled him, however, somewhat to the scheme, which was declared perfect in all its prospects and details, except the one drawback to the young ladies, of having been obliged to ask Mary Randall to accompany them.
There was no particular reason why Mary Randall’s being invited should have been a point so much objected to, as she appeared a quiet, inoffensive girl, by Ruth and Grace, only that she was not intimate with either, and seemed in their apprehension to spoil the ease and interfere with the excessive intimacy and familiarity of the other two. Harry Meredith, too, was put out with the prospect of “another woman to be civil to;” but, as Ruth said, “there was no help for it. Papa makes a point of it, as he wants to pay the Randalls some attention, and so does it by making me civil to Mary. It’s not pleasant, Grace, but it is better than not going at all.”
“Oh, to be sure,” replied Grace, thinking in her heart that old Mr. Meredith was a very disagreeable old gentleman; but there being no help for that either, the matter was settled.
“I dare say Mrs. Castleton will take her a good deal off our hands,” said Ruth.
“What a charming woman she is,” replied Grace.
“Mrs. Castleton? Oh, she has always been my beau ideal,” answered Ruth. “She’s lovely both in mind and person. Her manners are so graceful, and her tones so sweet—there’s altogether a charm and witchery about her that’s indescribable.”
“I hope your beau ideal will be a little more punctual another time, Ruth,” said young Meredith smiling. “Faith! I thought we had lost our passage.”
“Well, but we did not,” replied his sister.
“No,” said Meredith. “More by luck though than good management.”
“What a fuss you men always make about punctuality,” returned Ruth.