"Well, you need not have cared for that. What if she did?" replied Angela.
"It would have mattered a great deal," answered Ida, in a low voice. "I don't believe my Aunt Patty ever did an unkind or a cowardly thing in her life."
CHAPTER VIII.
Four days later Ida was lying one morning on a wicker-work lounge on the front porch of Mr. Leverton's cottage, when the man employed to take care of the horses returned from a trip to the post-office, and handed her a letter.
ARRIVAL OF AUNT STINA'S LETTER.
Ida took it listlessly. She had not felt well since the night before; her head had ached; she had pains in her limbs, and felt dull and sleepy.
"From Aunt Stina," she said to Angela, who sat near her, reading. "She writes from Paris," she added, as she tore the letter open.
"Read me anything very interesting," said Angela. "I hope she tells about the Paris fashions."
But Ida read down to the bottom of the first page without communicating a word of its contents. Then suddenly she gave a sigh that was almost a sob, and covered her face with her hands.