The sight and sound of the cars made “old Charlotte,” whom Mrs. Mason was driving, prick up her ears, and feet too, and in a few moments she carried her load to the village.  Leaving Mrs. Mason at the store, Mary proceeded at once to Mrs. Campbell’s.  She rang the door-bell a little timidly, for the last time she saw her sister, she had been treated with so much coldness, that she now felt some anxiety with regard to the reception she was likely to meet.

“Is Miss Campbell at home?” she asked of the girl who answered her ring.

“Yes, she’s at home,” replied the girl, “but is busy dressing for company.”

“Tell her her sister is here, if you please.  I won’t detain her long,” said Mary, trying hard to shake off the tremor which always came upon her, when she found herself in Mrs. Campbell’s richly furnished house.

Conducting Mary into the parlor, the girl departed with her message to Ella, who, together with the young lady whom Mr. Knight had styled a “white-eyed pucker,” but whose real name was Eliza Porter, was dressing in the chamber above.  The door of the room was open, and from her position, Mary could hear distinctly every word which was uttered.

“Miss Ella,” said the girl, “your sister is in the parlor, and wants to see you.”

“My sister,” repeated Ella, “oh, forlorn!  What brought her here to-day?  Why didn’t you tell her I wasn’t at home?”

“I never told a lie in my life,” answered the honest servant girl, while Miss Porter in unfeigned surprise said “Your sister!  I didn’t know you had one.  Why doesn’t she live at home?”

Concealment was no longer possible, and in a half vexed, half laughing tone, Ella replied, “Why, I thought you knew that I was an orphan whom Mrs. Campbell adopted years ago.”

“You an orphan!” returned Miss Porter.  “Well, if I ever!  Who adopted your sister?”

“A poor woman in the country,” was Ella’s answer.

Miss Porter, who was a notorious flatterer, replied, “I must see her, for if she is any thing like you, I shall love her instantly.”

“Oh, she isn’t like me” said Ella, with a curl of her lip.  “She’s smart enough, I suppose, but she hasn’t a bit of polish or refinement.  She doesn’t come here often, and when she does, I am always in a fidget, for fear some of the city girls will call, and she’ll do something outre.”

“I guess, then, I won’t go down, at least not till I’m dressed,” answered Miss Porter; and Ella, throwing on a dressing-gown, descended to the parlor, where she met her sister with the ends of her fingers, and a simple, “Ah, Mary, how d’ye do?  Are you well?”

After several commonplace remarks, Ella at last asked, “How did you know I was at home?”

“Mr. Knight told me,” said Mary.

“Mr. Knight,” repeated Ella; “and pray, who is he?  I don’t believe he’s on my list of acquaintances.”

“Do you remember the man who carried me to the poor-house?” asked Mary.