That lady was in her nursery, which was one of Ida's accustomed haunts. She was at home at once; tossing the babe, and joining her voice to its chuckling laugh, until the room rang again; Charley hanging upon her dress to entreat her praises of his hobby-horse; and Elle waiting patiently to kiss her for the "sweet bonnet that just fitted Dolly."
"You have come to stay a good long time with me, I know," said Mrs. Dana. "Here is a note I was about to send to you, requesting the pleasure of your company to dinner. I thought you had rather be out of the way while Miss Josephine is 'cleaning up,' and to be candid, Mr. Dana has invited two or three gentlemen to dine with us, and I am too bashful to face them unsupported. I did not write this, lest you should have scruples on the subject, but you must stay for my sake and John's. He made it a point that you should be asked. Do you know I am getting jealous?"
"But indeed, my dear madam"—
"But indeed, my dear miss, you will remove your bonnet immediately."
Resistance was useless; nor would Ida have offered it, had she been sure of meeting only the family; for the sun shone more brightly into this home-nest of cheerful peace, than into the abode she had lately quitted. The Danas knew enough of Mr. Read and Josephine, to make them solicitous to withdraw Ida as much from their influence as was consistent with her duty as a ward. She never complained, except to Carry, but they respected her the more for her prudence.
"You will spoil me," said she, as Mrs. Dana untied her bonnet.
"No danger," replied the lady, kissing her forehead—Carry's caress—and as other lips did, years ago. Tears stood in the orphan's eyes, but they did not fall. Elle wondered why cousin Ida could not see her doll's cloak without holding her head so near to it.
Mrs. Dana approved entirely of her project.
"Will you take them to him this morning?" inquired she.
"I certainly had such a notion, but I do not like to go without you, and as you are expecting company"—