“Well,” interposed Uncle Dick, “tell us the rest.  You thought you heard of your Aunt Ida up here, in the mountains?”

“Yes, Mr. Gordon,” said Ida.  “I read it in the paper.  But the notice must have referred to my dear little mare.  I never dreamed she had been sent over here.  I never dreamed of it!”

“No?”

“Of course I didn’t!  And when I got to Cliffdale there was nobody who had ever heard of my aunt.  There are two hotels.  One of them is closed at this time of year.  At the other there was no such guest.”

“Dear me!  How disappointed you must have felt,” murmured Betty.

“You can’t imagine!  But in talking with the clerk at the hotel I got news of my little darling.”

“Meaning the mare, of course?” suggested Uncle Dick.

“Yes.  She had arrived the night before and had been taken directly to Candace Farm.  The clerk told me how to get there.  I did not feel that I could afford to hire anybody to take me there.  And I knew nobody.  So I set out to walk day before yesterday morning.”

“Before it began to snow?” asked Betty.

“Yes, Miss Gordon.”

“Oh, please,” cried Betty, “call me Betty.  I’m not old enough to be Miss Gordon.  To a girl, anyway,” she added.  “With a strange boy it would be different.”

The English girl consented, and then went on with her story.

“It was cloudy but I did not know anything about such storms as you have here.  Oh, dear me, how it snowed and blew!  I got to that little house and I could open the door.  If I had had to go many yards farther I would have fallen down and been covered by the snow.”

“You poor dear!” murmured Betty, putting an arm around the other girl.

Ida gave her a tearful smile, and Betty kissed her.  And then the latter suddenly remembered again her lost locket.  She gave a little jump in her chair.  But she did not speak of it.

Not for a moment did she believe Ida Bellethorne would be guilty of stealing her trinket.  Uncle Dick evidently did not think of that possibility, either.  Could Betty suggest such a matter when already Ida was in so much trouble?  At least, she would wait and see what came of it.  So she hugged Ida more closely and said: 

“Go on.  What else?”

“Not much else, Betty,” said the English girl, wiping her eyes again and smiling.  “I just stayed there in that house until you came along and saved me.  There was nothing to burn but the furniture in the house, and I burned it.  I suppose the poor man who owns it will want to be paid.  Oh, dear!”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Mr. Gordon, cheerfully.  “You seem to have come through a good deal.  I’d take it easy now.  Mrs. Canary and the girls are glad to have you here.  When we go back to town we will take you with us and see what can be done.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gordon.  You are very kind.  I should like to know about my little mare.  She is a darling!  How this Mr. Bolter came to get her——­”