CHAPTER IV

CHRISTMAS IN TWO HOMES

When Ida Starr was dismissed from school it wanted but a few days to
the vacations. The day which followed her mother's removal to the
hospital was Christmas Eve. For two hours on the afternoon of Christmas
Day, Ida sat in silence by the bedside in the ward, holding her
mother's hand. The patient was not allowed to speak, seemed indeed
unable to do so. The child might not even kiss her. The Sister and the
nurse looked pityingly at Ida when they passed by, and, when the
visitors' time was at an end, and she had to rise and go, the Sister
put an orange into her hand, and spoke a few hopeful words.

Night was setting in as she walked homewards; it was cold, and the sky
threatened snow. She had only gone a few yards, when there came by a
little girl of her own age, walking with some one who looked like a
nurse-maid. They were passing; but all at once the child sprang to
Ida's side with a cry of recognition. It was little Maud Enderby.

"Where have you been, Ida? Where are you going? Oh, I'm so glad; I
wanted so to see you. Miss Rutherford told us you'd left school, and
you weren't coming back again. Aren't you really? And sha'n't I see
you?"

"I don't know, I think not," said Ida. In her premature trouble she
seemed so much older than her friend.

"I told Miss Rutherford you weren't to blame," went on Maud eagerly. "I
told her it was Harriet's own fault, and how shockingly she'd behaved
to you. I expect you'll come back again after the holidays, don't you?"

Ida shook her head, and said nothing.

"But I shall see you again?" pleaded the little maid. "You know we're
always going to be friends, aren't we? Who shall I tell all my dreams
to, if I lose you?"

Dreams, in the literal sense of the word. Seldom a week went by, but
Maud had some weird vision of the night to recount to her friend, the
meaning of which they would together try to puzzle out; for it was an
article of faith with both that there were meanings to be discovered,
and deep ones.

Ida promised that she would not allow herself to be lost to her friend,
and they kissed, and went their several ways.

Throughout the day the door of Mr. Smales's shop had been open, though
the shutters were up. But at nightfall it was closed, and the family
drew around the tea-table in the parlour which smelt so of drugs. It
was their only sitting-room, for as much of the house as could be was
let to another family. Besides