CHAPTER III.
ADA HARCOURT.
In a small and neat, but scantily furnished chamber, a poor widow was preparing her only child, Ada, for the party.

The plain, white muslin dress of two years old had been washed and ironed so carefully that Ada said it looked just as well as new; but then everything looked well on Ada Harcourt, who was highly gifted, both with intellect and beauty.

After her dress was arranged she went to the table for her old white gloves, the cleaning of which had cost her much trouble, for her mother did not seem to be at all interested in them, so Ada did as well as she could.

As she was about to put them on her mother returned from a drawer, into the recesses of which she had been diving, and from which she brought a paper carefully folded.
"Here, Ada," said she, "you need not wear those gloves; see here"-- and she held up a pair of handsome mitts, a fine linen handkerchief, and a neat little gold pin.
"Oh, mother, mother!" said Ada joyfully, "where did you get them ?" "I know," answered Mrs.Harcourt, "and that is enough." After a moment's thought Ada knew, too.

The little hoard of money her mother had laid by for a warm winter shawl had been spent for her.
From Ada's lustrous blue eyes the tears were dropping as, twining her arm around her mother's neck, she said, "Naughty, naughty mother!" but there was a knock at the door.