de out separately, and gave it to her. Maria
calculated that she would have just about enough to pay her fare back
to Amity without touching that sacred blood-money in the
savings-bank. It had been on that occasion that Ida had made the
remark to her about her always considering that house as her home,
and had done so with that odd expression which caused Maria to
speculate. Maria decided that night, as she lay awake in bed, that
Ida had something on her mind which she was keeping a secret for the
present. The surmise was quite justified, but Maria had not the least
suspicion of what it was until three days before her vacation was to
end, when Ida received a letter with the Amity post-mark, directed in
Aunt Maria's precise, cramped handwriting. She spoke about it to
Maria, who had brought it herself from the office that evening after
Evelyn had gone to bed.

"I had a letter from your aunt Maria this morning," she said, with an
assumed indifference.

"Yes; I noticed the Amity post-mark and Aunt Maria's writing," said
Maria.

Ida looked at her step-daughter, and for the first time in her life
she hesitated. "I have something to say to you, Maria," she said,
finally, in a nervous voice, so different from her usual one that
Maria looked at her in surprise. She waited for her to speak further.

"The Voorhees are going abroad," she said, abruptly.

"Are they?"

"Yes, they sail in three weeks--three weeks from next Saturday."

Maria still waited, and still her step-mother hesitated. At last,
however, she spoke out boldly and defiantly.

"Mrs. Voorhees's sister, Miss Angelica Wyatt, is going with them,"
said she. "Mrs. Voorhees is not going to take Paul; she will leave
him with her mother. She says travelling is altogether too hard on
children."

"Does she?"

"Yes; and so there are three in the party. Miss Wyatt has her
state-room to herself, and--they have asked me to go. The passage
will not cost me anything. All the expense I shall have will be my
board, and travelling fares abroad."

Maria looked at her step-mother, who visibly shrank before her, then
looked at her with defiant eyes.

"Then you are going?" she said.

"Yes. I have made up my mind that it is a chance which Providence has
put in my way, and I should be foolish, even wicked, to throw it
away, especially now. I am not well. Your dear father's death has
shattered my nerves."

Maria looked, with a sarcasm which she could not repress, at her
st