She allowed me to go downstairs with father, without following, and sent Murphy in with wine and biscuit.  I put my arms round his neck and kissed him, for I had a lonesome feeling, which I could not define at the last moment.

“You will not stay long,” he said; “there is something oppressive in this atmosphere.”

“Something artificial, is it?  It must be the blood of the Bellevue Pickersgills that thickens the air.”

“Now,” said Ben, with father’s hat in his hand, “the time is up.”

Adelaide was at the door to take courteous leave of him, and Mrs. Somers bowed from the top of the stairs, revealing a pair of large ankles, whose base rested in a pair of shabby, pudgy slippers.  Adelaide then took me to my room, telling me not to change my dress, but to come down soon, for dinner was ready.  Hearing a bell, I hurried down to the parlor which we were in before, and waited for directions respecting the dinner.  Adelaide came presently.  “We are dining; come and sit next me,” offering her arm.  Mrs. Somers, Desmond, and a girl of fifteen were at the table.  The latter had just come from school, I concluded, as a satchel of books hung at her chair.  Murphy was removing the soup, and I derived the impression that I had been forgotten.  While taking mine, they vaguely stared about till Murphy brought in the roast mutton, except Adelaide, who rubbed her teeth with a dry crust, making a feint of eating it.  Desmond kept the decanter, occasionally swallowing a glassful.

“What wine is that, Murphy?” Mrs. Somers asked.  He hesitatingly answered, “I think it is the Juno, mum.”

“You stole the key from pa’s room, Des,” said the girl.  He shook the carving-knife at her, at which gesture she said “Pooh!” and applied herself to the roast mutton with avidity.  They all ate largely, especially the girl, whose wide mouth was filled with splendid teeth.  Mrs. Somers made a motion with her glass for Murphy to bring her the wine, and pouring a teaspoonful, held it to her mouth, as if she were practicing drinking healths.  Her hands were beautiful, too; they all had handsome hands, whose movements were graceful and expressive.  When Ben arrived, Murphy set the dishes before him, and Adelaide began to talk in a lively, brilliant way.  He did not ask for wine, but I saw him look toward it and Desmond.  The decanter was empty.  After the dessert, Mrs. Somers arose and we followed; but she soon left us, and we went to the parlor.  The girl, taking a seat beside me, said:  “My name is Ann Somers.  I am never introduced; Adder, my sister, is in the way, you know.  I dare say Ben never spoke of me to you.  I am never spoken of, am never noticed.  I have never had new dresses; yet pa is my friend, the dear soul.”

Adelaide looked upon her with the same superb indifference with which she regarded her mother and Desmond.

“Would you like to go to your room?” she asked again.  “You are too tired to take a walk, perhaps?”