CHAPTER XII

SEVEN YEARS


Seven years slipped by unmarked by any important change. The Hardings
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 in which they would none of them consent to be economical.
The little Ida must have everything she wanted. Timothy brought home
nearly every day some little delicacy for her, which none of the rest
thought of sharing. While Mrs. Harding, far enough from vanity, always
dressed with extreme plainness, Ida's attire was always of good material
and made up tastefully.

Sometimes the little girl asked: "Mother, why don't you buy yourself
some of the pretty things you get for me?"

Mrs. Harding 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. Aunt Rachel
is a good deal older than you."