ter, she went upstairs to her sister.

"Ada," she said, "here is such a letter;" and she held up the letter
and the card.

"Who is it from?"

"You must guess," said Edith.

"I am bad at guessing, I cannot guess. Is it Mr. Blake of Carnlough?"

"A great deal more interesting than that."

"It can't be Captain Clayton," said Ada.

"Out of the full heart the mouth speaks. It is Captain Clayton."

"What does he say, and what is the card? Give it me. It looks like an
invitation."

"Then it tells no story, because it is an invitation. It is from the
officers of the West Bromwich regiment; and it asks us to a dance on
the 20th of May."

"But that's not from Captain Clayton."

"Captain Clayton has written,--to me and not to you at all. You will
be awfully jealous; and he says that I have twice as much courage as
you."

"That's true, at any rate," said Ada, in a melancholy tone.

"Yes; and as the officers want all the girls at the ball to be at
any rate as brave as themselves, that's a matter of great importance.
He has asked me to go with a pair of pistols at my belt; but he is
afraid that you would not shoot anybody."

"May I not look at his letter?"

"Oh, no! That would not be at all proper. The letter is addressed to
me, Miss Edith Jones. And as it has come from such a very dashing
young man, and pays me particular compliments as to my courage, I
don't think I shall let anybody else see it. It doesn't say anything
special about beauty, which I think uncivil. If he had been writing
to you, it would all have been about feminine loveliness of course."

"What nonsense you do talk, Edith."

"Well, there it is. As you will read it, you must. You'll be awfully
disappointed, because there is not a word about you in it."

Then Ada read the letter. "He says he hopes we shall both come."

"Well, yes! Your existence is certainly implied in those words."

"He explains why he writes to you instead of me."

"Another actual reference to yourself, no doubt. But then he goes on
to talk of my pluck."

"He says it's a little higher than mine," said Ada, who was
determined to extract from the Captain's words as much good as was
possible, and as little evil to herself.

"So it is; only a little higher pluck! Of course he means that I
can't come near himself."

"You wouldn't pretend to?" asked Ada.

"What! to be shot at like him, and to like it. I don't know any girl
that can come quite up to that. Only if one becom