All this John had repeated to Anna in the dim twilight of the morning, as he stood by her bedside to bid her good-by; and she, as usual, had soothed him into quiet, speaking kindly of his bride-elect, and saying she should like her.

He had not told her all of Lily’s story, as he meant to do.  There was no necessity for that, for the matter was fixed.  ’Lina should be his wife, and he need not trouble Anna further; so he had bidden her adieu, and was gone again, the carriage which bore him away bringing back Adah and her boy.

Jim opened the wide door for her, and showing her first into the parlor, but finding that dark and cold, he ushered her next into a little reception-room, where the Misses Richards received their morning calls.

Willie seemed perfectly at home, seating himself upon a little stool, covered with some of Miss Eudora’s choicest worsted embroidery, a piece of work of which she was very proud, never allowing anything to touch it lest the roses should be jammed, or the raised leaves defaced.  But Willie cared neither for leaves, nor roses, nor yet for Miss Eudora, and drawing the stool to his mother’s side, he sat kicking his little heels into a worn place of the carpet, which no child had kicked since the doctor’s days of babyhood.  The tender threads were fast giving way to the vigorous strokes, when two doors opposite each other opened simultaneously, and both Mrs. Richards and Eudora appeared.

“Are you—­ah, yes—­you are the lady who Jim said wished to see me,” Mrs. Richards began, bowing politely to Adah, who had not yet dared to look up, and who when at last she did raise her eyes, withdrew them at once, more abashed, more frightened, more bewildered than ever, for the face she saw fully warranted her ideas of a woman who could turn a waiting maid from her door just because she was a waiting maid.

Something seemed choking Adah and preventing her utterance, for she did not speak until Mrs. Richards said again, this time with a little less suavity and a little more hauteur of manner, “Have I had the honor of meeting you before?”—­then with a low gasp, a mental petition for help, Adah rose up and lifting to Mrs. Richards’ cold, haughty face, her soft, brown eyes, where tears were almost visible, answered faintly:  “We have not met before.  Excuse me, madam, but my business is with Miss Anna, can I see her please?”

There was something supplicating in the tone with which Adah made this request, and it struck Mrs. Richards unpleasantly.  She answered haughtily, though still politely, “My daughter is sick.  She does not see visitors.  It will be impossible to admit you to her chamber, but I will take your name and your errand.”