"No, indeed!" answered Rhoda, with emphasis. "I never thought of such a thing. I would have liked well enough to go to Hobarttown to school, because I always have wanted to get a regular education, but that was all. I never dreamed of such a thing as living there. I don't believe you think you have very much of a daughter, papa dear, if you suppose she could want to run away from you as easily as that. I don't believe you would like to have me think you wanted to get rid of me." Mr. Bowers's mouth twitched again. "I was only joking, child. There! Run over to the post-office and see whether the mail has come in." For three or four days all was fair weather with Rhoda once more. Her father was kindness itself, and seemed to seek out ways of giving her pleasure. "I can't do it," Rhoda heard him say one day in answer to some observations of his wife's. "It would break my heart to part with the girl, and I don't believe it would be right." "But if it is our duty toward the child?" said his wife. "I don't believe it is," answered Mr. Bowers, hastily; "I don't believe the child will ever be one bit the better for it." Rhoda knew she ought not to listen, and turned away, her heart beating between hope and disappointment. Could it be that they were thinking of sending her away to school? As the time went on, a good many things seemed to confirm this view of the case. Her father had bought a new sewing-machine and a piece of nice muslin, and her mother had set Rhoda to making a new set of underclothing for herself. Her old dresses were all remodelled and several new ones bought, and, in short, her wardrobe was put in perfect order. Mr. Weightman had returned, and was often at the house, but Rhoda kept out of his way and seldom saw him. When they did meet, he was uncommonly gracious to her; and once, encountering her in a store at the Springs, he actually bestowed upon her a dollar to spend as she pleased, advising her, at the same time, to buy something useful, and not to waste it all upon ribbons and laces. Rhoda could not help wondering how many ribbons and laces Uncle Jacob supposed that one dollar would buy; but she liked to be friends with everybody, so she thanked him for his present and laid it out upon a box of initial-paper. CHAPTER IV. _THE CHANGE._ "MOTHER," said Rhoda one evening at the supper-table, "if we should ever go to the city, I should like to go and see the old ladies' 'Home.'" Mr. and Mrs. Bowers exchanged glances, and Mrs. Bowers said,— "How would you like to make a little visit there?" "I should like it ever so much, though I suppose hardly any one is left in the house that I know, except Miss Carpenter. I wonder what has become of all the children I used to play with? I hope they are all as well off as I am. But, mother—" "Well?" said Mrs. Bowers as Rhoda paused. "But what?" "I thought—I hoped, rather—that I was getting ready to go away to school."