“You dear, good girl!” gasped Ida, dabbling her eyes with her handkerchief.  “And I didn’t say anything because I thought you would think I wanted a reward for returning it.”

“So, you see, I couldn’t speak of it.  But now, of course, we’ll get it away from Mrs. Staples.  I think she’s horrid mean!”

Betty expressed her opinion of the shopwoman vigorously, but she put her arms around the English girl at the same time and kissed her warmly.

“You’re a dear!” repeated Ida.

“You’re another!” cried Betty gaily.  “Now come on!  Maybe those boys will eat up all the dinner, and I am so hungry!”

One of the men arrived from Cliffdale during dinner with the mail and the information that another cold rain was falling and freezing to everything it touched.

“The whole country about here will be one glare of ice in the morning,” said Mr. Canary.  “You young folks will have all the sledding you care for, I fancy.  I have seen the time when, after one of these ice storms, one might coast from here to Midway Junction on the railroad, and that’s a matter of twenty miles.”

“What a lark that would be,” cried Tommy Tucker.  “Some slide, eh, Bob?”

“How about walking back?” asked the other boy promptly, grinning.

Letters and papers were distributed.  There was at least one letter for everybody but Ida, and Betty squeezed her hand under the table in a comforting way.

When they all retired from the table and gathered in groups in the big living room where the log fire roared Uncle Dick beckoned Betty to him.  He put a letter from Mrs. Eustice into the girl’s hand and at one glance she “knew the worst.”

“Oh Betty!” gasped Louise, “what’s the matter?”

For Betty had emitted a squeal of despair.  She shook the paper before their eyes.

“Come on, Betty!” cried Bob.  “Get it out—­if it’s a fishbone.”

“It’s all over!” wailed Betty.  “Measles don’t last as long as we thought they did.  Shadyside opens two days from to-morrow, and we have got to be there.  That’s Monday.  Oh, dear, dear, dear!”

“Say a couple more for me, Betty,” growled Teddy Tucker.  “I suppose Salsette will open too.  Back to Major Pater and others too murderous to mention.”

“And the Major’s got it in for you Tucker twins,” Bob reminded him wickedly.

“That’s Tom’s fault,” grumbled Teddy.  “If he hadn’t sprung that snowball stunt—­Oh, well!  What’s the use?”

“Life, Ted believes,” said Louise, “is just one misfortune after another.  But I do hate to leave here just as we have got nicely settled.  My goodness! what’s the matter with Ida?  Something’s happened to her, too.”

Ida had sprung to her feet with one of the recently arrived New York papers in her hand.  Actually she was pale, and it was no wonder the company stared at her when her cheeks were usually so ruddy.

“What is the matter, dear?” asked Mrs. Canary.