“Merriam’s a trump, and no mistake,” said Jack.  “By the way, father, when you see him again, won’t you just insinuate that you have a son?  Ain’t we in luck, Aunt Rachel?”

“’Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall,’” said Rachel.

“I never knew Aunt Rachel to be jolly but once,” said Jack, under his breath; “and that was at a funeral.”

CHAPTER VI.

Eight years.  Ida’s progress.

Eight years slipped by, unmarked by any important event.  The Crumps were still prosperous in an humble way.  The cooper had been able to obtain work most of the time, and this, with the annual remittance for little Ida, had enabled the family not only to live in comfort, but even to save up one hundred and fifty dollars a year.  They might even have saved more, living as frugally as they were accustomed to do, but there was one point upon which none of them would consent to be economical.  The little Ida must have everything she wanted.  Timothy brought home daily some little delicacy for her, which none of the rest thought of sharing.  While Mrs. Crump, far enough from vanity, always dressed with exceeding plainness, Ida’s attire was always rich and tasteful.  She would sometimes ask, “Mother, why don’t you buy yourself some of the pretty things you get for me?”

Mrs. Crump would answer, smiling, “Oh, I’m an old woman, Ida.  Plain things are best for me.”

“No, I’m sure you’re not old, mother.  You don’t wear a cap.”

But Mrs. Crump would always playfully evade the child’s questions.

Had Ida been an ordinary child, all this petting would have had an injurious effect upon her mind.  But, fortunately she had that rare simplicity, young as she was, which lifted her above the dangers to which many might have been subjected.  Instead of being made vain, she only felt grateful for the many kindnesses bestowed upon her by her father and mother and brother Jack, as she was wont to call them.  Indeed, it had not been thought best to let her know that such was not the relation in which they really stood to her.

There was one point, more important than dress, in which Ida profited by the indulgence of her friends.

“Wife,” the cooper was wont to say, “Ida is a sacred charge in our hands.  If we allow her to grow up ignorant, or afford her only ordinary advantages, we shall not fulfil our duty.  We have the means, through Providence, to give her some of those advantages which she would enjoy if she remained in that sphere to which her parents, doubtless, belong.  Let no unwise parsimony, on our part, withhold them from her.”

“You are right, Timothy,” said Mrs. Crump; “right, as you always are.  Follow the dictates of your own heart, and fear not that I shall disapprove.”

Accordingly Ida was, from the first, sent to a carefully-selected private school, where she had the advantage of good associates, and where her progress was astonishingly rapid.