So the three girls were by themselves in the comfortable, elegant,
well-lighted drawing-room; and, like many similarly situated young
ladies, they did not exactly know what to do to while away the time
until the tea-hour. The elder two had been at a dancing-party the
night before, and were listless and sleepy in consequence. One
tried to read "Emerson's Essays," and fell asleep in the attempt;
the other was turning over a parcel of new songs, in order to select
what she liked. Amy, the youngest, was copying some manuscript
music. The air was heavy with the fragrance of strongly-scented
flowers, which sent out their night odours from an adjoining
conservatory.
The clock on the chimney-piece chimed eight. Sophy (the sleeping
sister) started up at the sound.
"What o'clock is that?" she asked.
"Eight," said Amy.
"O dear! how tired I am! Is Harry come in? Tea will rouse one up a
little. Are you not worn out, Helen?"
"Yes; I am tired enough. One is good for nothing the day after a
dance. Yet I don't feel weary at the time; I suppose it is the
lateness of the hours.
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