o much.

"Is my nurse a good woman?" she asked, thoughtfully, when alone with
Mrs. Crump, who was setting the table for dinner.

"A good woman! What makes you ask that?" queried her adopted mother, in
surprise.

"I don't know," said Ida.

"I don't know anything to indicate that she is otherwise," said Mrs.
Crump. "And, by the way, Ida, she is going to take you on a little
excursion, to-morrow."

"She going to take me?" exclaimed Ida. "Why, where are we going?"

"On a little pleasure trip, and perhaps she may introduce you to a
pleasant lady, who has already become interested in you, from what she
has told her."

"What could she say of me?" inquired Ida, "she has not seen me since I
was a baby."

"Why," said the cooper's wife a little puzzled, "she appears to have
thought of you ever since, with a good deal of affection."

"Is it wicked," asked Ida, after a pause, "not to like those that like
us?"

"What makes you ask?"

"Because, somehow or other, I don't like this Mrs. Hardwick at all, for
all she was my old nurse, and I don't believe ever shall."

"Oh yes, you will," said Mrs. Crump, "when you find she is exerting
herself to give you pleasure."

"Am I going to-morrow morning with Mrs. Hardwick?"

"Yes. She wanted you to go to-day, but your clothes were not in order."

"We shall come back at night, sha'n't we?"

"I presume so."

"I hope we shall," said Ida, decidedly, "and that she won't want me to
go with her again."

"Perhaps you will think differently when it is over, and you find you
have enjoyed yourself better than you anticipated."

Mrs. Crump exerted herself to fit Ida up as neatly as possible, and when
at length she was got ready, she thought to herself, with sudden fear,
"Perhaps her mother won't be willing to part with her again."

When Ida was ready to start, there came over all a little shadow of
depression, as if the child were to be separated from them for a year,
and not for a day only. Perhaps this was only natural, since even this
latter term, however brief, was longer than they had been parted from
her since, an infant, she was left at their door.

The nurse expressly desired that none of the family should accompany
her, as she declared it highly important that the whereabouts of Ida's
mother should not be known at once. "Of course," she said, "after
Ida returns, she can tell you what she pleases. Then it will be of no
consequence, for her mother will be gone. She does not