Cynthia's eyes were swollen and red when she entered the kitchen a few minutes later. It was quite apparent that she had been weeping, and of course Aunt Patty was deeply concerned. She peered at Cynthia over her steel-bowed spectacles, and insisted on knowing what was the matter. "It is only that I am a little disappointed about something," said Cynthia, when she saw that her aunt would not be put off. "But it was foolish of me to cry. I'm ashamed of being such a baby." "And what disappointed you?" asked her aunt. Before Cynthia had time to reply, Ida rose abruptly and left the kitchen. She went into the stuffy parlor, and sat down by a window overlooking the road. The blinds were closed, but she could see through the half-open slats. There was no one in sight, however, and nothing more interesting to gaze upon than Squire Cord's old spavined horse, which was cropping the grass by the road-side. He raised his hind legs, whenever he moved, in a stiff fashion that would have made Ida smile at any other time; but now she felt too much depressed for even the shadow of a smile to curve her lips. Her conscience was troubling her. She knew she had done wrong, had been unsisterly and deceitful, but she had not the moral courage to confess her fault. Because she knew that Cynthia had no suitable dress for such an occasion she had not wanted her to attend the lawn party. She didn't want Angela Leverton to meet either Cynthia or Aunt Patty. "I didn't say Mrs. Lennox hadn't invited her," thought Ida, trying to stifle the reproaches of her conscience. "I simply let her think so. And I really think I was justified to some extent; for it would spoil all my pleasure to have her at the lawn party in that old pink organdie. It's a shame Aunt Patty hasn't provided her with decent clothes. She might have strained a point to get her one nice summer dress at least." If Ida had only known how often a point had been strained at the old farm-house to provide her with nice clothing during the six years she had spent at Aunt Stina's, and how cheerfully Cynthia had turned, dyed, and made over her old garments that her absent sister might have new! Ida remembered suddenly that she had not heard the "something grand" which Aunt Patty had been so eager to tell. She concluded that she had better return to the kitchen. She found Aunt Patty making biscuit. Cynthia was setting the table for supper. She smiled brightly as Ida came in. "We've been waiting for you, Ida," she said. "Aunt Patty wants you to hear the great news. What do you think it is?" "Oh, I could never guess." "Well, Aunt Patty has sold the yellow heifer. Mr. Coswell will give twenty-eight dollars for her." "Is that the something grand?" Ida's lip curled a little. "Well, I suppose I ought to be interested. I will be if Aunt Patty will buy herself some new clothes with the money." Aunt Patty and Cynthia exchanged a look.