ell her that if she
doesn't see fit to notice my visitors, I certainly shall not be polite
to hers."

This message had the desired effect; for Rose, who was daily expecting
a Miss King, from Philadelphia, felt that nothing would mortify her
more than to be neglected by Ida, who was rather a leader among the
young fashionables. Accordingly after a long consultation with her
mother, she concluded it best to call upon Mary. In the course of the
afternoon, chancing to be near the front window, she saw Mr. Selden's
carriage drive away from his door, with Ida and her visitor.

"Now is my time," thought she; and without a word to her mother or
Jenny, she threw on her bonnet and shawl, and in her thin French
slippers, stepped across the street and rang Mr. Selden's door bell.
Of course she was "so disappointed not to find the young ladies at
home," and leaving her card for them, tripped back, highly pleased
with her own cleverness.

Meantime Ida and Mary were enjoying their ride about the city, until
coming suddenly upon an organ-grinder and monkey, the spirited horses
became frightened and ran, upsetting the carriage, and dragging it
some distance. Fortunately Ida was only bruised, but Mary received a
severe cut upon her head, which, with the fright, caused her to
faint. A young man, who was passing down the street and saw the
accident, immediately came to the rescue; and when Mary awoke to
consciousness, Billy Bender was supporting her, and gently pushing
back from her face the thick braids of her long hair. At first she
thought she was not much hurt, but when she attempted to lift her head
she uttered a cry of pain, and laid it heavily back upon his bosom.

"Who is she?--Who is she?" asked the eager voices of the group around,
but no one answered, until a young gentleman, issuing from one of the
fashionable drinking saloons, came blustering up, demanding "what the
row was."

Upon seeing Ida, his manner instantly changed, and after learning that
she, with another young lady, had been upset, he ordered the crowd "to
stand back," at the same time forcing his way forward until he caught
a sight of Mary's face.

"Whew, Bill," said he, "your old flame the pauper, isn't it?"

It was fortunate for Henry Lincoln that Billy Bender's arms were both
in use, otherwise he might have measured his length upon the side
walk, which exercise he would hardly have relished in the presence of
Ida. As it was, Billy frowned angrily upon hi