“I don't think it proper to make light of such matters.”
“Nor I, Aunt Rachel,” said Jack, drawing down the corners of his mouth. “I am willing to confess that this is a serious matter. I should feel as they said the cow did, that was thrown three hundred feet into the air.”
“How was that?” inquired his mother.
“A little discouraged,” replied Jack.
All laughed except Aunt Rachel, who preserved the same severe composure, and continued to eat the pie upon her plate with the air of one gulping down medicine.
So the evening passed. All seemed to miss Ida. Mrs. Crump found herself stealing glances at the smaller chair beside her own in which Ida usually sat. The cooper appeared abstracted, and did not take as much interest as usual in the evening paper. Jack was restless, and found it difficult to fix his attention upon anything. Even Aunt Rachel looked more dismal than usual, if such a thing be possible.
In the morning all felt brighter.
“Ida will be home to-night,” said Mrs. Crump, cheerfully. “What an age it seems since she left us!”
“We shall know better how to appreciate her presence,” said the cooper, cheerfully.
“What time do you expect her home? Did Mrs. Hardwick say?”