"Don't forget to wrap up well," admonished Mrs. Canary. "Sometimes it gets pretty cold and windy."
"Not to say anything about its being cold already," answered Bobby. "My, but the wind goes right through a person up here!"
While the other seven ran off for skates and wraps, Betty nodded to Uncle Dick and then, tucking her arm through that of Ida Bellethorne, urged her to follow Mr. Gordon from the breakfast room to a little study, or "den," that was possibly Mr. Canary's own.
"Now, girls," said Uncle Dick in his quiet, pleasant way and smiling with equal kindness upon his niece and the English girl, "let us get comfortable and open our hearts to each other. I think you know, Ida, that Betty and I are immensely interested in your story and we are hungry for the details. But not altogether out of mere curiosity. We hope to give you aid in some way to make your situation better. Understand?"
"Oh, Mr. Gordon, I quite understand that," said the English girl seriously and without smiling. "I never saw such friendly people as you are. And you both strangers to me! If I were at home I couldn't find better friends, I am sure."
"That's fine!" declared Uncle Dick. "It is exactly the way I want you to feel. Betty and I are interested. Now suppose you sit down and tell us all about it."
"Where shall I begin?" murmured the girl thoughtfully, hesitating.
"If I were you," returned Uncle Dick, with a smile, "I would begin at the beginning."
"Never mind that. One of the most foolish mistakes which I see in educational methods is to give the children lessons in modern history without any reference to ancient history which comes to them in higher grades. Ancient history should be gone into first. Suppose, Ida, you begin with ancient history."
"Before Ida Bellethorne was born, do you mean?" asked the English girl doubtfully.
"Which Ida Bellethorne do you mean?" asked Mr. Gordon, while Betty stared.
"I was thinking of my beautiful black mare. The darling! She is seven years old now, Mr. Gordon; but I think that in those seven years enough has happened to me to make me feel three times seven years old."
"Go ahead, Ida," said the gentleman cheerfully. "Tell it in your own way."
Thus encouraged, the girl began, and she did tell it in her own way. But it was not a brief way, and both Mr. Gordon and Betty asked questions and that, too, increased the difficulty of Ida's telling her story.