Ida's entrance at that moment prevented Cynthia from making any reply, and they all sat down to supper. They no longer ate their meals in the kitchen, Ida having arranged the former sitting-room as a dining-room. The change made a great deal more work for Aunt Patty and Cynthia, but they had not complained. Half a dozen times during each meal Cynthia was obliged to go into the kitchen on some errand, but no shadow of impatience or annoyance ever crossed her face. That Ida found the change desirable and pleasant was quite enough to cause Cynthia to feel glad that it had been made. Often when Ida would have risen to attend to some errand to the pantry her sister would forestall her. "I know better than you do where things are," she would say, as she hurried from the room. That evening, after Ida had gone upstairs to her own chamber, pleading a headache, Cynthia and Aunt Patty employed themselves with the composition of a letter. When finished it was addressed to Mrs. Chase. "I will get up early and take it to the post-office, so it will go out in the six-o'clock mail," said Cynthia, as she sealed the envelope. "Oh, Aunt Patty, isn't it nice to have this splendid secret?" CHAPTER V. Ida did not meet Angela Leverton at church on Sunday morning, as she had expected. Angela had a headache, Mrs. Lennox said, but would call at ten o'clock on Monday morning to take Ida for a drive. So on Monday Ida, attired in her best, seated herself on the front porch, parasol in hand. Aunt Patty had gone to the village, and Cynthia was attending to the dairy work, so there was no chance that Angela would see either of them. Promptly at ten o'clock Angela appeared in the Lennox carriage, and Ida hurried to the front gate to meet her. "I don't suppose you care to come in?" she said. "No, it is not worth while," answered Angela. "What a dear, picturesque old place you have here!" she added, as, Ida having stepped lightly into the carriage, the coachman turned the horses' heads toward the village. "I know you must have enjoyed the peace and rest of the last three weeks, after the whirl of last winter and spring." "It is very cool and quiet here," said Ida, who was too proud to wish her friend to suspect her discontent. "You may not care to accept an invitation I have for you," said Angela. "Mamma suggested I should ask you to spend August with us at Rocky Beach. We are all to go down on Saturday, and I thought it would be perfectly lovely if you would join us in about ten days. We will be settled then, and ready to receive you." "It is good of you to ask me," said Ida, "and I would love to accept; but indeed I have nothing fit to wear, if you expect to be very gay." [Illustration: "ISN'T SHE THE MOST ABSURD OBJECT YOU EVER SAW."]