"No; she's very generous," admitted Ida.
"You'd say that more heartily if you knew how she used to pinch and contrive in order to send you a little extra money, Ida. She was always making little plans for you, and was so proud whenever you wrote that you'd taken a prize."
"She has her good qualities, of course, Cynthia; I admit that. But I do wish she understood a little about table etiquette. I don't wonder now that Aunt Stina used to shrug her shoulders and smile whenever Aunt Patty's name was mentioned. She often used to say that I didn't realize from what a depth she had rescued me."
A little spark of indignation burned in Cynthia's brown eyes as she looked up quietly.
"It was unkind of her to say that," she exclaimed. "And why was she willing to send you back to such an uncivilized place?"
"Because she found it convenient to do so," answered Ida, coolly. "Self first, always, with Aunt Stina."
"And it is never self with Aunt Patty." Cynthia's tone was warm. "What do her little peculiarities matter? If you made up your mind not to let them annoy you, Ida, you would soon cease to notice them."
Ida shook her head and smiled incredulously. "They would always annoy me," she said. "I pity you, Cynthia, for having had to live with her all these years."
"You needn't; I have never pitied myself."
"Well, you are used to her, and of course that makes a great difference. You probably don't notice things that drive me nearly wild."