So for six years Ida had made her home in the city, and her occasional letters to Cynthia, who was a year her junior, gave evidence that she was well satisfied with the change of homes.
It was Mrs. Chase who had written that Ida was about to return to Brookville. It was apparently taken for granted that Aunt Patty would welcome her gladly, and there was no hint about reclaiming her when the European trip should be over.
Cynthia thought the letter cold and heartless, and her tender heart ached for her sister. She wondered if Ida had not been cruelly hurt at being so summarily disposed of when her presence was found inconvenient. She wondered, too, how Ida would bear the change from luxury to a very plain way of living, for Cynthia was quite conscious of the limitations of her home, much as she loved it.
"There's the stage, now!" cried Aunt Patty, as the rumble of wheels and the heavy trot of horses' hoofs were heard on the hard road which ran before the house.
They both hurried out to the front gate. The stage had stopped in a cloud of dust, and a tall, slender girl, fashionably attired in a dark blue suit, and hat of rough straw trimmed with blue ribbons, was descending from it.
The driver, assisted by another man, who had volunteered his help, was engaged in taking down a large canvas-covered trunk, on one end of which were the initials "I. S. W."
CHAPTER II.
"IDA, DEAR IDA!" SHE CRIED.
Cynthia opened the gate and hastened out into the road. "Ida, dear Ida!" she cried, and threw her arms about her sister. "We are so glad to have you back," the tears rushing to her eyes.