Placing her arm affectionately around him, she led him into the parlor, saying, “I am so glad that you have come to live with me and be my brother.  We’ll have real nice times, but perhaps you dislike little girls.  Did you ever see one that you loved?”

“Yes, two,” was the answer.  “My cousin Ida, and one other.”

“Oh, who is she?” asked Ida.  “Tell me all about her How does she look?  Is she pretty?”

Instantly as George had predicted, there came before his vision the image of “a forlorn-looking, sallow-faced child,” whom he did not care about describing to Ida.  She, however, insisted upon a description, and that evening when tea was over, the lamps lighted, and Mr. Selden reading the paper, George told her of Mary, who had watched so kindly over him during the weary days of his illness.  Contrary to his expectations, she did not laugh at the picture which he drew of Mary’s face, but simply said, “I know I should like her.”  Then after a moment’s pause, she continued; “They are poor, you say, and Mr. Howard is a music teacher.  Monsieur Dupres has just left me, and who knows but papa can get Mr. Howard to fill his place.”

When the subject was referred to her father, he said that he had liked the appearance of Mr. Howard, and would if possible find him on the morrow and engage his services.  The next morning Ida awoke with an uncomfortable impression that something was the matter with the weather.  Raising herself on her elbow, and pushing back the heavy curtains, she looked out and saw that the sky was dark with angry clouds, from which the rain was steadily falling,—­not in drizzly showers, but in large round drops, which beat against the casement and then bounded off upon the pavement below.

All thoughts of Mr. Howard were given up for that day and as every moment of Mr. Selden’s time was employed for several successive ones, it was nearly a week after George’s arrival before any inquiries were made for the family.  The hotel at which they had stopped was then found, but Mr. Selden was told that the persons whom he was seeking had left the day before for one of the inland towns, though which one he could not ascertain.

“I knew ’twould be so,” said Ida rather fretfully, “father might have gone that rainy day as well as not.  Now we shall never see nor hear from them again, and George will be so disappointed.”  But George’s disappointment was soon forgotten in the pleasures and excitements of school, and if occasionally thoughts of Mary Howard came over him, they were generally dispelled by the lively sallies of his sprightly little cousin, who often declared that “she should be dreadfully jealous of George’s travelling companion, were it not that he was a great admirer of beauty and that Mary was terribly ugly.”

CHAPTER II.

Chicopee.

It was the afternoon for the regular meeting of the Ladies Sewing Society in the little village of Chicopee, and at the usual hour groups of ladies were seen wending their way towards the stately mansion of Mrs. Campbell, the wealthiest and proudest lady in town.