"Do you know anything of that?"

"Yes, I can play a few easy pieces."

Mrs. Hardwick looked surprised, and regarded her young charge with curiosity.

"Have you got any of your drawings with you?" she asked.

"No, I didn't bring any."

"I wish you had; the lady we are going to see would have liked to see some of them."

"Are we going to see a lady?"

"Yes, didn't your mother tell you?"

"Yes, I believe she said something about a lady that was interested in me."

"That's the one."

"Where does she live? When shall we get there?"

"We shall get there before very long."

"And shall we come back to New York to-night?"

"No, it wouldn't leave us any time to stay. Besides, I feel tired and want to rest; don't you?"

"I do feel a little tired," acknowledged Ida.

"Philadelphia!" announced the conductor, opening the car-door.

"We get out, here," said the nurse. "Keep close to me, or you may get lost. Perhaps you had better take hold of my hand."

"When are you coming back, Ida?" asked William Fitts, coming up to her with his basket on his arm.

"Mrs. Hardwick says we sha'n't go back till to-morrow."

"Come, Ida," said the nurse, sharply. "We must hurry along."

"Good-by, William," said Ida. "If you see Jack, just tell him you saw me."

"Yes, I will," was the reply.

"I wonder who that woman is with Ida," thought the boy. "I don't like her looks much. I wonder if she's any relation of Mr. Crump. She looks about as pleasant as Aunt Rachel."

The last-mentioned lady would hardly have felt complimented at the comparison, or the manner in which it was made.

Ida looked about her with curiosity. There was a novelty in being in a new place, since, as far back as she could remember, she had never left New York, except for a brief excursion to Hoboken; and one Fourth of July was made memorable in her recollection, by a trip to Staten Island, which she had taken with Jack, and enjoyed exceedingly.

"Is this Philadelphia?" she inquired.

"Yes;" said her companion, shortly.

"How far is it from New York?"

"I don't know; a hundred miles, more or less."

"A hundred miles!" repeated Ida, to whom this seemed an immense distance. "Am I a hundred miles from father and mother, and Jack, and--and Aunt Rachel?"

The last name was mentioned last, and rather as an after-thought, if Ida felt it her duty to include the not very amiable spinster, who had never erred in the way of indulgence.

"Why, yes, of course you are," said Mrs. Hardwick, in a practical, matter-of-fact tone. "Here, cross the street here. Take care or you'll get run over. Now turn down here."

They had now entered a narrow and dirty street, with unsightly houses on either side.

"This ain't a very nice looking street," said Ida, looking about her.

"Why isn't it?" demanded the nurse, looking displeased.

"Why, it's narrow, and the houses don't look nice."

"What do you think of that house, there?" asked Mrs. Hardwick, pointing out a tall, brick tenement house.

"I shouldn't like to live there," said Ida, after a brief survey.

"You shouldn't! You don't like it so well as the house you live in in New York?"

"No, not half so well."

The nurse smiled.

"Wouldn't you like to go up and look at the house?" she asked.

"Go up and look at it!" repeated Ida, in surprise.

"Yes, I mean to go in."

"Why, what should we do that for?"

"You see there are some poor families living there that I go to see sometimes," said Mrs. Hardwick, who appeared to be amused at something.

"You know it is our duty to visit the poor."

"Yes, that's what mother says."

"There's a poor man living in the third story that I've made a good many clothes for, first and last," said the nurse, in the same peculiar tone.

"He must be very much obliged to you," said Ida, thinking that Mrs.

Hardwick was a better woman than she had supposed.