CHAPTER I.

THE NEW SHOES.

"LOOK, aunty, see my pretty new shoes!"

Little Ida danced up and down, holding back the skirt of her dress to display the present papa had brought her.

"Very pretty," said Aunt Mary. "I hope my little niece will never let them carry her into mischief."

"No, indeed, aunty! I'm going to be a real good girl now. See how softly I can step in them."

And she went on tiptoe to the door of the bedroom, where her mother was confined with an attack of nervous headache.

Mrs. Kent's head was bandaged tightly with a wet towel, the room being darkened, in the hope she would be able to drop to sleep.

But Ida did not think of this.

[Illustration: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"]

She wanted her mamma to see how nicely her foot looked in the new boot. She was so quick in her motions, that before Aunt Mary knew what she was about, she had pushed a cricket to the side of the bed, and jumped up, boots and all.

"O Ida! What are you doing?" exclaimed the lady, with a groan. "I was just falling asleep. Jump right off the bed, dear; you jar my head dreadfully."

"See my shoes, first, mamma! Berty tied 'em up for me."

"Ida Kent, come out of that room this minute!" said Aunt Mary. "Your ma is very sick; and you'll make her worse with your noise."

"No, I won't! I'll make her better. I'm going to comb your hair, mamma. You said I might."

Mrs. Kent groaned again. "Do take her away, Mary. I shall die with this dreadful pain. If I could be quiet one hour, I think I should be better."

Aunt Mary took Ida firmly by the hand.

"I won't go! I won't!" screamed the naughty child, at the top of her voice, clinging at the same time to the bedpost.

"Go this minute, Ida," said her mother, holding her throbbing head between her hands. "And Mary, take off those new shoes. She mustn't wear them till she can behave better."

The naughty girl gave a scream of passion, and was carried out of the room by Aunt Mary, who was obliged to hold her hands to keep her from scratching anywhere she could reach.

Mamma tried to shut her ears, but no, she could hear the loud, angry screams, until Aunt Mary closed the doors in a distant chamber.

Even then, her head throbbed painfully, as she readily imagined the naughty conduct of her little girl.

"What shall I do with her?" she kept saying to herself. "How can I help her conquer her hasty temper? So affectionate one moment, so passionate the next."

Toward night, Mrs. Kent's pain was relieved. She was able to sit up in bed and take a cup of gruel. Nothing could exceed Ida's fond attention. She ran softly to the entry for a shawl, then upstairs for another pillow, and afterwards sat in a chair, her curly head resting on the bed, her forefinger in her mouth, looking as placid and happy as if no cries of passion had ever distorted her features.

Mrs. Kent was greatly refreshed by the gruel. She sat up in bed long enough for Aunt Mary to smooth her tangled hair, and then lay down, saying—

"I feel as if I could sleep."

Presently she put her hand softly on Ida's cheek. "You're a good girl now," she said. "You're mamma's comfort."

Ida caught her mother's hand and kissed it, then went to sucking her finger again.

By and by papa came home, and rocked his little girl in his arms until the tea-bell rang.

"The sky seems remarkably clear to-night," he said to his sister Mary, after a glance at Ida.

"Yes," she said, smiling; "a storm generally clears the sky; and there has been a terrible one to-day."

"Was that what made her mother's head ache so bad?"

"No, she had gone to bed before; but of course the scream's made it worse."

"The thunder you mean. In what direction did the storm arise?"

"In the direction of the s-h-o-e-s." Aunt Mary spelled the word so that Ida need not understand.

"To look at her now, one would think there never could be a storm."

The little girl sat in a high chair by the side of her father, diligently engaged in eating her bread and milk.

"I know what kind of storms you mean," said Berty, laughing.

"Yes, I suppose so," answered his father. "You are quite a man, you know."

"There were never such storms in his day," remarked Aunt Mary, glancing kindly in the face of her favorite nephew.

"Please, aunty, give Ida some cake!" asked the little girl, holding out her plate.

"Yes, dear;" and then added, "I wish her mother could see her now."

"We have a nice young lady at table this evening," remarked Mr. Kent. "I would to have her come here to tea every night."

"I'm going to be good all the time now," said Ida, smiling in her father's face.