"How far is Emerson from here?"

"Only a night's journey from New York. You go to sleep in your berth,
and in the morning you are there. You could always see her off. It is
very easy."

"Send Maria away! Ida, it is out of the question. Aside from anything
else, there is the expense. I am living up to my income as it is."

"Oh," said Ida--she gave her head a noble toss, and spoke
impressively--"I am prepared to go without myself to make it possible
for you to meet her bills. You know I spoke the other day of a new
lace dress. Well, that would cost at least a hundred; I will go
without that. And I wanted some new portieres for my room; I will go
without them. That means, say, fifty more. And you know the
dining-room rug looks very shabby. I was thinking we must have an
Eastern rug, which would cost at least one hundred and fifty; I
thought it would pay in the end. Well, I am prepared to give that up
and have a domestic, which only costs twenty-five; that is a hundred
and twenty-five more saved. And I had planned to have my seal-skin
coat made over after Christmas, and you know you cannot have
seal-skin touched under a hundred; there is a hundred more. There are
three hundred and seventy-five saved, which will pay for Maria's
tuition for a year, and enough over for travelling expenses." Nothing
could have exceeded the expression of lofty virtue of Ida Edgham when
she concluded her speech. As for her own selfish considerations,
those, as always, she thought of only as her duty. Ida established
always a clear case of conscience in all her dealings for her own
interests.