ep-mother's blooming face, and her rounded form.

"I have consulted Mrs. Voorhees's physician, in New York," said Ida
quickly, for she understood the look. "I consulted him when I went to
the city with Mrs. Voorhees last Monday, and he says I am a nervous
wreck, and he will not answer for the consequences unless I have a
complete change of scene."

"What about Evelyn?" asked Maria, in a dry voice.

"I wrote to your aunt Maria about her. The letter I got this morning
was in reply to mine. She writes very brusquely--she is even
ill-mannered--but she says she is perfectly willing for Evelyn to go
there and board. I will pay four dollars a week--that is a large
price for a child--and I knew you would love to have her."

"Yes, I should; I don't turn my back upon my own flesh and blood,"
Maria said, abruptly. "I guess I shall be glad to have her, poor
little thing! with her father dead and her mother forsaking her."

"I think you must be very much like your aunt Maria," said Ida, in a
cool, disagreeable voice. "I would fight against it, if I were you,
Maria. It is not interesting, such a way as hers. It is especially
not interesting to gentlemen. Gentlemen never like girls who speak so
quickly and emphatically. They like girls to be gentle."

"I don't care what gentlemen think," said Maria, "but I do care for
my poor, forsaken little sister." Maria's voice broke with rage and
distress.

"You are exceedingly disagreeable, Maria," said Ida, with the radiant
air of one who realizes her own perfect agreeableness.

Maria's lip curled. She said nothing.

"Evelyn's wardrobe is in perfect order for the summer," said Ida. "Of
course she can wear her white frocks in warm weather, and she has her
black silk frocks and coat. I have plenty of black sash ribbons for
her to wear with her white frocks. You will see to it that she always
wears a black sash with a white frock, I hope, Maria. I should not
like people in Amity to think I was lacking in respect to your
father's memory."

"Yes, I will be sure that Evelyn wears a black sash with a white
frock," replied Maria, in a bitter voice.

She rose abruptly and left the room. Up in her own chamber she threw
herself face downward upon her bed, and wept the tears of one who is
oppressed and helpless at the sight of wrong and disloyalty to one
beloved. Maria hardly thought of Evelyn in her own personality at
all. She thought of her as her dead father's child, whose mother was
going