Jane went out and called for Mary, and the two young ladies made a few calls, and then walked the streets until dinner time; not, however, alone, but accompanied by a dashing young fellow, who had been introduced to Mary a few evenings before, and now made bold to follow up the acquaintance, encouraged by a glance from the young lady’s bright, inviting eyes.

Mrs. Leland, in the mean time, felt unhappy.  Her daughter was changing, and the change troubled her.  The intimacy formed with Mary Halloran, it was clear, was doing her no good, but harm.  By this time, too, she had noticed some things in the mother that were by no means to her taste.  There was a coarseness, vulgarity and want of delicacy about her, that showed itself more and more every day, traits of character particularly offensive to Mrs. Leland, who was a woman of refined sentiments.  Besides, Mrs. Halloran’s conversation involved topics neither interesting nor instructing to her neighbors; and often of a decidedly objectionable kind.  In fact, she liked her less and less every day, and felt her too frequently repeated visits as an annoyance; and though “Why don’t you come in to see me oftener?” was repeated almost daily, she did not return more than one out of every half dozen calls she received.

“I’ve seen Jane in the street with that Mary Halloran no less than three times this week,” said Mr. Leland, one day, “and on two of these occasions there was a beau accompanying each of the young ladies.”

“She goes out too often, I know,” returned Mrs. Leland seriously.  “I have objected to it several times, but the girl’s head seems turned with that Mary Halloran.  I do wish she had never known her.”

“So do I, from my heart.  We knew what she was, and never should have permitted Jane to make her acquaintance, if it had been in our power to prevent it.”

“It is too late now, and can’t be helped.”

“Too late to prevent the acquaintance, but not too late to prevent some of the evil consequences likely to grow out of such an improper intimacy, which must cease from the present time.”

“It will be a difficult matter to break it off now.”

“No matter how difficult it may be, it must be done.  The first step toward it you will have to make, in being less intimate with the mother, whom I like less and less the oftener I meet her.”

“That step, so far as I am concerned, has already been taken.  I have ceased visiting Mrs. Halloran almost entirely; but she is here just as often, and sadly annoys me.  I dislike her more and more every day.”

“If I saw as much in any one to object to as you see in Mrs. Halloran, I would soon make visiting a thing by no means agreeable.  You can easily get rid of her intrusive familiarity if you think proper.”

“Yes, by offending her, and getting the ill-will of a low-minded unprincipled woman; a thing that no one wants.”

“Better offend her than suffer, as we are likely to suffer, from a continuance of the acquaintance.  Offend the mother, I say, and thus you get rid of the daughter.”