a half," repeated Lucy, and then, as a tear fell from
Ada's eye, she added contemptuously, "It is a small amount to cry
about."

Ada made no reply, and was about leaving the room when Lucy detained
her, by saying, "Pray, did you ask Mr. St. Leon to accompany you here
and bring your bundle?"

"Miss Dayton, you know better--you know I did not," answered Ada, as
the fire of insulted pride flashed from her dark blue eyes, which
became almost black, while her cheek grew pale as marble.

Instantly Lucy's manner changed, and in a softened tone she said, "I
am glad to know that you did not; and now, as a friend, I warn you
against receiving any marks of favor from St. Leon."

"What do you mean?" asked Ada, and Lucy continued:

"You have sense enough to know that when a man of St. Leon's standing
shows any preference for a girl in your circumstances it can be from
no good design."

"You judge him wrongfully--you do not know him," said Ada; and Lucy
answered:

"Pray, where did you learn so much about him?"

Ada only answered by rising to go.

"Here, this way," said Lucy, and leading her through an enter passage
to the back door, she added, "I do it to save your good name. St.
Leon is undoubtedly waiting for you, and I would not trust my own
sister with him, were she a poor sewing girl!"

The door was shut in Ada's face, and Lucy returned to the parlor,
where she found her father entertaining her visitor. Seating herself
on a crimson ottoman, she prepared to do the agreeable, when St. Leon,
rising, said, "Excuse my short call, for I must be going. Where have
you left Miss Harcourt?"

"I left her at the door," answered Lucy, "and she is probably halfway
to 'Dirt Alley' by this time, so do not be in haste."

But he was in haste, for when he looked on the fast-gathering darkness
without, and thought of the by streets and lonely alleys through which
Ada must pass on her way home, he felt uneasy, and biding Miss Dayton
good night, he hurried away.

Meantime, Ada had procured the articles she wished for, and proceeded
home, with a heart which would have been light as a bird had not the
remembrance of Lucy's insulting language rung in her ears. Mrs.
Harcourt saw that all was not right, but she forbore making any
inquiries until supper was over. Then Ada, bringing a stool to her
mother's side, and laying her head on her lap, told everything which
had transpired between herself, St. Leon, and Lucy.

Scarcely was her sto