still among the beds. Of Frank not a word had been spoken. Frank
would go as a matter of course if Mr. Jones consented. But Ada,
though she was left among the beds, did not at once go on with her
work; but sat down on that special bed by which her attention was
needed, and thought of the circumstances which surrounded her. Was it
a fact that she was in love with the Captain? To be in love to her
was a very serious thing,--but so delightful. She had been already
once,--well, not in love, but preoccupied just a little in thinking
of one young man. The one young man was an officer, but was now in
India, and Ada had not ventured even to mention his name in her
father's presence. Edith had of course known the secret, but Edith
had frowned upon it. She had said that Lieutenant Talbot was no
better than a stick, although he had L400 a year of his own. "He'd
give you nothing to talk about," said Edith, "but his L400 a year."
Therefore when Lieutenant Talbot went to India, Ada Jones did not
break her heart. But now Edith called Captain Clayton a hero, and
seemed in all respects to approve of him; and Edith seemed to think
that he certainly admired Ada. It was a dreadful thing to have to
fall in love with a woodcock. Ada felt that if, as things went on,
the woodcock should become her woodcock, the bullet which reached his
heart would certainly pierce her own bosom also. But such was the way
of the world. Edith had seemed to think that the man was entitled to
have a lady of his own to love; and if so, Ada seemed to think that
the place would be one very well suited to herself. Therefore she was
anxious for the ball; and at the present moment thought only of the
difficulties to be incurred by Edith in discussing the matter with
her father.

"Papa, Captain Clayton wants us to go to a ball at Galway," it was
thus that Edith began her task.

"Wants you to go a ball! What has Captain Clayton to do with you
two?"

"Nothing on earth;--at any rate not with me. Here is his letter,
which speaks for itself. He seems to think that we should show
ourselves to everybody around, to let them know that we are not
crushed by what such a one as Pat Carroll can do to us."

"Who says that we are crushed?"

"It is the people who are crushed that generally say so of
themselves. There would be nothing unusual under ordinary
circumstances in your daughters going to a ball at Galway."

"That's as may be."

"We can stay the night at Mrs. D'Arcy'