ringing in her voice.  When I first saw your daughter, she reminded me of somebody I had seen; but I never thought who it was till now.  I came to tell you some news about the fascinating Senorita; and I suppose that brought the likeness to my mind.  You know Mr. King, the son of our rich old merchant, persuaded her to leave the stage to marry him.  They have been living in the South of France for some years, but he has just returned to Boston.  They have taken rooms at the Revere House, while his father’s house is being fitted up in grand style for their reception.  The lady will of course be a great lioness.  She is to make her first appearance at the party of my cousin, Mrs. Green.  The winter is so nearly at an end, that I doubt whether there will be any more large parties this season; and I wouldn’t fail of attending this one on any account, if it were only for the sake of seeing her.  She was the handsomest creature I ever beheld.  If you had ever seen her, you would consider it a compliment indeed to be told that your Rosa resembles her.”

“I should like to get a glimpse of her, if I could without the trouble of going to a party,” replied Mrs. Blumenthal.

“I will come the day after,” rejoined Mrs. Fitzgerald, “and tell you how she was dressed, and whether she looks as handsome in the parlor as she did on the stage.”

After some more chat about reported engagements, and the probable fashions for the coming season, the lady took her leave.

When she was gone, Mrs. Delano remarked:  “Mrs. King must be very handsome if she resembles our Rosa.  But I hope Mrs. Fitzgerald will not be so injudicious as to talk about it before the child.  She is free from vanity, and I earnestly wish she may remain so.  By the way, Flora, this Mr. King is your father’s namesake,—­the one who, you told me, called at your house in New Orleans, when you were a little girl.”

“I was thinking of that very thing,” rejoined Mrs. Blumenthal, “and I was just going to ask you his Christian name.  I should like to call there to take a peep at his handsome lady, and see whether he would recollect me.  If he did, it would be no matter.  So many years have passed, and I am such an old story in Boston, that nobody will concern themselves about me.”

“I also should be rather pleased to call,” said Mrs. Delano.  “His father was a friend of mine; and it was through him that I became acquainted with your father.  They were inseparable companions when they were young men.  Ah, how long ago that seems!  No wonder my hair is white.  But please ring for Rosa, dear.  I want to arrange her pattern before dinner.”

“There’s the door-bell again, Mamita!” exclaimed Flora; “and a very energetic ring it is, too.  Perhaps you had better wait a minute.”

The servant came in to say that a person from the country wanted to speak with Mrs. Delano; and a tall, stout man, with a broad face, full of fun, soon entered.  Having made a short bow, he said, “Mrs. Delano, I suppose?”