ake came. It has just made the
world over for me. Do sit down and I'll cut you a piece. I'm sure
you're as fond of fruit cake as I am."

Ida sat down in a chair, feeling bewildered and awkward. This was a
nice predicament! How could she tell that other Ida that the cake
didn't belong to her? The poor thing was so delighted. And, oh, what a
bare, lonely little room! The big, luxurious cake seemed to emphasize
the bareness and loneliness.

"Who--who sent it to you?" she asked lamely.

"It must have been Mrs. Henderson, because there is nobody else who
would," answered the other Ida. "Two years ago I was going to school
in Trenton and I boarded with her. When I left her to come to Clifton
she told me she would send me a cake for Christmas. Well, I expected
that cake last year--and it didn't come. I can't tell you how
disappointed I was. You'll think me very childish. But I was so
lonely, with no home to go to like the other girls. But she sent it
this year, you see. It is so nice to think that somebody has
remembered me at New Year's. It isn't the cake itself--it's the
thought behind it. It has just made all the difference in the world.
There--just sample it, Miss Mitchell."

The other Ida cut a generous slice from the cake and passed it to her
guest. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed. She was
really a very sweet-looking little thing--not a bit like her usual
pale, timid self.

Ida ate the cake slowly. What was she to do? She couldn't tell the
other Ida the truth about the cake. But the girls she had asked in to
help eat it that very evening! And Miss Monroe! Oh, dear, it was too
bad. But it couldn't be helped. She wouldn't blot out that light on
the other Ida's face for anything! Of course, she would find out the
truth in time--probably after she had written to thank Mrs. Henderson
for the cake; but meanwhile she would have enjoyed the cake, and the
supposed kindness back of it would tide her over her New Year
loneliness.

"It's delicious," said Ida heartily, swallowing her own disappointment
with the cake. "I'm--I'm glad I happened to drop in as I was passing."
Ida hoped that speech didn't come under the head of a fib.

"So am I," said the other Ida brightly. "Oh, I've been so lonesome and
downhearted this week. I'm so alone, you see--there isn't anybody to
care. Father died three years ago, and I don't remember my mother at
all. There is nobody but myself, and it is dreadfully lonely at times.