Rachel, construing this into an apology, said no more; but, feeling it unnecessary to explain why she ate what she admitted to be unhealthy, added, “And if I do eat what's unwholesome, it's because life ain't of any value to me. The sooner one gets out of this vale of affliction the better.”
“And the way you take to get out of it,” said Jack, gravely, “is by eating apple-turnovers. Whenever you die, Aunt Rachel, we shall have to put a paragraph in the papers, headed, 'Suicide by eating apple-turnovers.'”
Rachel intimated, in reply, that she presumed it would afford Jack a great deal of satisfaction to write such a paragraph.
The evening came. Still no tidings of Ida.
The family began to feel alarmed. An indefinable sense of apprehension oppressed the minds of all. Mrs. Crump feared that Ida's mother, seeing her grown up so attractive, could not resist the temptation of keeping her.
“I suppose,” she said, “that she has the best claim to her; but it will be a terrible thing for us to part with her.”
“Don't let us trouble ourselves in that way,” said the cooper. “It seems to me very natural that they should keep her a little longer than they intended. Besides, it is not too late for her to return to-night.”
This cheered Mrs. Crump a little.
The evening passed slowly.
At length there came a knock at the door.