CHAPTER XV. AUNT RACHEL'S MISHAPS.
THE week which had been assigned by Mr. Crump slipped away, and still no tidings of Ida. The house seemed lonely without her. Not until then, did they understand how largely she had entered into their life and thoughts. But worse even, than the sense of loss, was the uncertainty as to her fate.
When seven days had passed the cooper said, “It is time that we took some steps about finding Ida. I had intended to go to Philadelphia myself, to make inquiries about her, but I am just now engaged upon a job which I cannot very well leave, and so I have concluded to send Jack.”
“When shall I start?” exclaimed Jack, eagerly.
“To-morrow morning,” answered his father, “and you must take clothes enough with you to last several days, in case it should be necessary.”
“What good do you suppose it will do, Timothy,” broke in Rachel, “to send such a mere boy as Jack?”
“A mere boy!” repeated her nephew, indignantly.
“A boy hardly sixteen years old,” continued Rachel. “Why, he'll need somebody to take care of him. Most likely you'll have to go after him.”
“What's the use of provoking a fellow so, Aunt Rachel?” said Jack. “You know I'm most eighteen. Hardly sixteen! Why, I might as well say you're hardly forty, when everybody knows you're most fifty.”
“Most fifty!” ejaculated the scandalized spinster. “It's a base slander. I'm only forty-three.”