They did open at
length, and quickly saw the letter.
"It's from Miss Rutherford, mother," said Ida, her own voice
sounding very strange to herself.
"Oh, is it?" said Lotty, in the hoarse whisper which was all she
could command "I suppose she wants to know why you didn't go. Read
it to me."
Ida read, and, in reading, suffered as she never did again
throughout her life.
"DEAR MRS. STARR,--I am very sorry to have to say that Ida must not
return to school. I had better leave the explanation to herself; she
is truthful, and will tell you what has compelled me to take this
step. I grieve to lose her, but have really no choice.--I am, yours
truly,
H. RUTHERFORD."
No tears rose; her voice was as firm as though she had been reading
in class; but she was pale and cold as death.
Lotty rose in bed and stared wildly.
"What have you done, child?--what ever have you done? Is--is it
anything--about _me_"
"I hit Harriet Smales with a slate, and covered her all over with
blood, and I thought I'd killed her."
She could not meet her mother's eyes; stood with head hung down, and
her hands clasped behind her.
"What made you do it?" asked Lotty in amazement.
"I couldn't help it, mother; she--she said you were a bad woman.
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