zed a candle, and hastening to the door, threw it open. But
there was no Ida there. In her place stood William Fitts, the boy who
had met Ida in the cars.

"How do you do, Bill?" said Jack, endeavoring not to look disappointed.
"Come in, and take a seat, and tell us all the news."

"Well," said William, "I don't know of any. I suppose Ida has got home."

"No," said Jack, "we expected her to-night, but she hasn't come yet."

"She told me that she expected to come back to-day," said William.

"What! have you seen her?" exclaimed all in chorus.

"Yes, I saw her yesterday noon."

"Where?"

"Why, in the cars," said William, a little surprised at the question.

"What cars?" asked the cooper.

"Why, the Philadelphia cars. Of course, you knew that was where she was
going?"

"Philadelphia!" all exclaimed, in surprise.

"Yes, the cars were almost there when I saw her. Who was that with her?"

"Mrs. Hardwick, who was her old nurse."

"Anyway, I didn't like her looks," said the boy.

"That's where I agree with you," said Jack, decidedly.

"She didn't seem to want me to speak to Ida," continued William, "but
hurried her off, just as quick as possible."

"There were reasons for that," said Mrs. Crump, "she wanted to keep
secret her destination."

"I don't know what it was," said William; "but any how, I don't like her
looks."

The family felt a little relieved by this information; and, since Ida
had gone so far, it did not seem strange that she should have outstayed
her time.

CHAPTER XII. HOW IDA FARED.

WE left Ida confined in a dark closet, with Peg standing guard over her.

After an hour she was released.

"Well," said Peg, grimly, "how do you feel now?"

"I want to go home," sobbed the child.

"You are at home," said the woman. "This is going to be your home now."

"Shall I never see father and mother and Jack, again?"

"Why," answered Peg, "that depends on how you behave yourself."

"Oh, if you will only let me go," said Ida, gathering hope from this
remark, "I'll do anything you say."

"Do you mean this, or do you only say it for the sake of getting away?"

"Oh, I mean just what I say. Dear, good Mrs. Hardwick, just tell me what
I am to do, and I will obey you cheerfully."

"Very well," said Peg, "only you needn't try to get anything out of me
by calling me dear, good Mrs. Hardwick. In the first place, you don't
care a cent about me. In the second place, I am not good; and finally,