"Whom are you looking for? Whom did you hope to find?"

"Mr. Worthington. Does he live here?" was the frank reply; whereupon
'Lina drew herself up haughtily, exclaiming:

"I knew it. I've thought so ever since Hugh came home from New York."

'Lina was about to commence a tirade of abuse, when the mother
interposed, and with an air of greater authority than she generally
assumed toward her imperious daughter, bade her keep silence while she
questioned the stranger, gazing wonderingly from one to the other, as if
uncertain what they meant.

Mrs. Worthington had no such feelings for the girl as 'Lina entertained.

"It will be easier to talk with you," she said, leaning forward, "if I
know what to call you."

"Adah," was the response, and the brown eyes, swimming with tears,
sought the face of the questioner with a wistful eagerness, as if it
read there the unmistakable signs of a friend.

"Adah, you say. Well, then, Adah, why have you come to my son on such a
night as this, and what is he to you?"

"Are you his mother?" and Adah started up. "I did not know he had one.
Oh, I'm so glad. And you'll be kind to me, who never had a mother?"

A person who never had a mother was an anomaly to Mrs. Worthington,