Before she realized it she had come to the Ide farm. The same old barred gate! The untrimmed hedge! The green shady yard and the lane that led into the old house seemed exactly to fit her expectations. Almost she expected to see Rover, Ben’s dog, come bounding out to meet her. But Rover did not come. Ina entered the gate, and found that habit led her round to the back door. Yard and house had the homely appearance of use and comfort. Ina crossed the wide porch and knocked on the door.

It opened at once, revealing a pleasant–faced girl with fine blue eyes and curly hair. She had freckles that Ina remembered. She wore a gingham apron; her sleeves were rolled up to firm round elbows; in one hand she held a broom. For a moment she stared at Ina.

“Hettie, don’t you know me?” asked Ina.

“I—I do and—I don’t,” gasped the girl, with her face lighting.

“I’m Ina Blaine.”

“Oh—of course—I knew you were, but you’re so different—so—so changed and lovely,” replied Hettie in charming confusion. “We heard you were home. I’m glad to see you. Come in. Mother is here.”

“Hettie, you’ve grown up wonderfully, much more than Dall or Marvie,” said Ina, as she entered the big light kitchen that made her remember raids on the cupboard. “And I can return your compliment.”

“Thanks,” replied Hettie, blushing. “You always used to say nice things, Ina. Come in and see mother.” She led the way into the large sitting room.

“Mother,” announced Hettie, to the sad, sweet–faced woman who rose from beside a table, “this is Ina Blaine, come to call on us the very next day after she got home.”

“Mrs. Ide, I hope you remember me,” said Ina, advancing with a little contraction of her heart. Faintly she grasped at an affinity that brought her close to this woman.

“Ina Blaine!” exclaimed Mrs. Ide, in a slightly quavering voice, making haste to adjust her spectacles. “I ought to remember. That name is almost as familiar as Hettie’s…. So you are Ina! I wouldn’t have known you. Welcome home to Tule Lake, my dear. It was like you to come to us at once. I told them last night you’d never change.”

“Oh, I’m changed, grown up, Mrs. Ide,” replied Ina, taking the proffered hand, and then yielding to a warm impulse she kissed the faded cheek. “But I’m happy to be home, and I—I intend to be as I used to be.”

“Of course you will,” responded Mrs. Ide. “Even though you are a young woman now. Come, sit here an’ tell us all about yourself.”

Ina had never before found such inspiring listeners and she talked for an hour, telling all about her school life, and just touching at the end on her arrival home.

“It’s good to hear you, Ina,” murmured Mrs. Ide. “I hope an’ pray the changes that have come will not make you unhappy.”

“I shall not let myself be unhappy,” replied Ina, spiritedly. “I confess I’d have liked to find my home—my people the same as when I left them. But—they’re not. I’ll adjust myself to it.”