ouching
Berintha she said, "Please don't talk any more."

At that moment supper was announced, and after it was over St. Leon
departed, notwithstanding Lucy's urgent request that he would remain
longer. As the street door closed after him she felt that she would
gladly have seen every other guest depart also. A moody fit came on,
and the party would have been voted a failure had it not been for the
timely interference of Dr. Benton and Berintha. Together they sought
out any who seemed neglected, entertaining them to the best of their
ability, and leaving with every one the impression that they were the
best-natured couple in the world. At eleven o'clock, Lizzie, wearied
out, repaired to her chamber. Her departure was the signal for others,
and before one o'clock the last good night was said, the doors locked,
the silver gathered up, the tired servants dismissed, and Lucy, in her
sister's room, was giving vent to her wrath against Berintha, the
party, St. Leon, and all.

Scolding, however, could do her no good, and ere long, throwing
herself undressed upon a lounge she fell asleep, and dreamed that
grandma was married to the doctor, that Berintha had become her
stepmother, and, worse than all, that Ada Harcourt was Mrs. St. Leon.

CHAPTER IX.

A WEDDING AT ST. LUKE'S.

The day but one following the party, as Lucy was doing some shopping
down street she stepped for a moment into her dressmaker's, Miss
Carson's, where she found three or four of her companions, all eagerly
discussing what seemed to be quite an interesting topic. As Lucy
entered, one of them turning toward her said; "Oh, isn't it strange?
Or haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?" asked Lucy; and her companion replied:

"Why, Ada Harcourt is going to be married. Miss Carson is making her
the most beautiful traveling dress, with silk hat to match--"

"Besides three or four elegant silk dresses," chimed in another.

"And the most charming morning-gown you ever saw--apple green, and
dark green, striped--and lined with pink silk," rejoined a third.

By this time Lucy had sunk into the nearest chair. The truth had
flashed upon her, as it probably has upon you; but as she did not wish
to betray her real emotions she forced a little bitter laugh, and
said, "St. Leon, I suppose, is the bridegroom."

"Yes; who told you?" asked her companion.

"Oh, I've seen it all along," answered Lucy carelessly. "He called
with her once at our house!"

"But you