Jenny blushed deeply, and hastily replying that he was the last time she saw him, started up, whispering in Mary’s ear, “Oh, I’ve got so much to tell you,—­but I must go now.”

Ida accompanied her to the door, and asked why Rose too did not call.  In her usual frank, open way, Jenny answered, “You know why.  Rose is so queer.”

Ida understood her and replied, “Very well; but tell her that if she doesn’t see fit to notice my visitors, I certainly shall not be polite to hers.”

This message had the desired effect; for Rose, who was daily expecting a Miss King, from Philadelphia, felt that nothing would mortify her more than to be neglected by Ida, who was rather a leader among the young fashionables.  Accordingly after a long consultation with her mother, she concluded it best to call upon Mary.  In the course of the afternoon, chancing to be near the front window, she saw Mr. Selden’s carriage drive away from his door, with Ida and her visitor.

“Now is my time,” thought she; and without a word to her mother or Jenny, she threw on her bonnet and shawl, and in her thin French slippers, stepped across the street and rang Mr. Selden’s door bell.  Of course she was “so disappointed not to find the young ladies at home,” and leaving her card for them, tripped back, highly pleased with her own cleverness.

Meantime Ida and Mary were enjoying their ride about the city, until coming suddenly upon an organ-grinder and monkey, the spirited horses became frightened and ran, upsetting the carriage, and dragging it some distance.  Fortunately Ida was only bruised, but Mary received a severe cut upon her head, which, with the fright, caused her to faint.  A young man, who was passing down the street and saw the accident, immediately came to the rescue; and when Mary awoke to consciousness, Billy Bender was supporting her, and gently pushing back from her face the thick braids of her long hair.  At first she thought she was not much hurt, but when she attempted to lift her head she uttered a cry of pain, and laid it heavily back upon his bosom.

“Who is she?—­Who is she?” asked the eager voices of the group around, but no one answered, until a young gentleman, issuing from one of the fashionable drinking saloons, came blustering up, demanding “what the row was.”

Upon seeing Ida, his manner instantly changed, and after learning that she, with another young lady, had been upset, he ordered the crowd “to stand back,” at the same time forcing his way forward until he caught a sight of Mary’s face.

“Whew, Bill,” said he, “your old flame the pauper, isn’t it?”

It was fortunate for Henry Lincoln that Billy Bender’s arms were both in use, otherwise he might have measured his length upon the side walk, which exercise he would hardly have relished in the presence of Ida.  As it was, Billy frowned angrily upon him, and in a fierce whisper bade him beware how he used Miss Howard’s name.  By this time the horses were caught, anther carriage procured, and Mary, still supported by Billy Bender, was carefully lifted into it, and borne back to Mr. Selden’s house.  Henry Lincoln also accompanying her, and giving out numerous orders as to “what ought to be done!”