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.