“I found a letter addressed to Aunt Ida after my father died,” explained the girl, choking back a sob.  “On the envelope in pencil father had written to me to find Aunt Ida and give it to her.  He hoped she would forgive him and take some interest in me.  I’ve got that letter safe in here.”  She touched the belt that held her blouse down so snugly.  “I hope I’ll find Aunt Ida and be able to give her the letter.  I remember her as a most beautiful, tall woman.  I loved her on sight.  But, I don’t know——­”

“Cheer up!” exclaimed Mr. Gordon, beamingly.  “We’ll find her.  I take it upon myself to say that Betty and I will find her for you.  Sha’n’t we, Betty?”

“Indeed we will.  If she is singing in this country of course it will be comparatively easy to find her.”

“Do you think so?” asked Ida Bellethorne doubtfully.  “I have not found it so, and I have been searching for her for three months now.  This is such a big country!  I never imagined it so big until I began to look for Aunt Ida.  It seems like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

CHAPTER XVII

OFF ON SNOWSHOES

Mr. Gordon encouraged the English girl at this point in her story by assuring her that he would, before returning to Canada, put the matter in the hands of his lawyers and have the search for the elder Ida Bellethorne conducted in a more businesslike way.

“How did you expect to find your aunt,” he asked, “when you first landed in New York?”

“I knew of a musical journal published there which I believed kept track of people who sang.  I went to that office.  The last they knew of my aunt she was booked to sing at a concert in Washington,” Ida said sadly.  “The date was the very day I called at the office.  I hurried to buy a ticket to Washington.  But the distance was so great that when my train got into Washington the concert was over and I could do nothing more until the next day.”

“And then?” asked Uncle Dick.

“She had gone again.  All the company had gone and I could find nobody who knew anything about her.  I—­I didn’t have much money left,” confessed the girl.  “And things do cost so much here in your country.  I was frightened.  I walked about to find a cheap lodging and reached that street in Georgetown where Mrs. Staples has her shop.”

“I see,” commented Uncle Dick.

“So I asked Mrs. Staples.  She was English too, and she offered me lodgings and a chance to serve in her shop.  I took it.  What else could I do?”

“You are a plucky girl, I must say.  Don’t you think so.  Betty?” said Uncle Dick.

“I think she is quite wonderful!” cried his niece.  “And think of her making those blouses so beautifully!  You know, Ida, Bobby bought the blue one of Mrs. Staples.”

“I am glad, if you like them,” said the other girl, blushing faintly.  “I had hard work to persuade Mrs. Staples to pay for that one on the chance of your coming back for it.”