“What descent of wild Indians is this, Ada?” asked her mother, doubting the grace or refinement of this last movement. Ada started back, coloring with shame, and Catharine sneaked behind the nearest causeuse that offered concealment.
Mrs. Darrington easily divined that Ada’s embarrassment had special reference to her presence; so she smilingly extended her hand, and as Ada advanced with sheepish mien and awkward gait, she kissed her and said,
“I am glad to find you so merry, Ada. What a nice romp you must have had under those shady trees.”
At so gracious an opening, Catharine’s head appeared above the frame of the causeuse, but seeing Mrs. Darrington look toward her, down it popped again.
Mrs. Darrington saw her plainly enough; but she resisted her inclination to laugh, and went on.
“I want you to come and spend to-morrow with me, and I shall stop on my way home at Mrs. Ashton’s to ask if Catharine may come with you.” In her joy, Catharine nearly upset the causeuse, which rocked as if a little earthquake were taking place under it. “But I came this morning especially to tell you a piece of news.” At this, Catharine could hold out no longer; not only her curly head, but her entire self, emerged from concealment, and she slided, as she imagined, unobserved, into a seat.
“We are going away for awhile, Ada,” resumed Mrs. Darrington, “and I have various commissions to intrust to you. Will you do them?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I want you to take care of Hector and Fleeta,” continued Mrs. Darrington.
Hector and Fleeta! Then James was going too! Ada longed to ask where, and for how long, but she dared not; and Mrs. Darrington, seeing her large eyes ready to overflow, merely added that they would speak more on that subject on the morrow. She then spoke a few words to Catharine, repeated her invitation, and drove off.