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Ida spent the next day decorating her room and watching for the arrival of her cake. It hadn’t come by tea-time, and she concluded to go down to the express office and investigate. It would be dreadful if that cake didn’t turn up in time, with all the girls and Miss Monroe coming in. Ida felt that she would be mortified to death.

Inquiry at the express office discovered two things. A box had come in for Miss Ida Mitchell, Clifton; and said box had been delivered to Miss Ida Mitchell, Clifton.

“One of our clerks said he knew you personally–boarded next door to you–and he’d take it round himself,” the manager informed her.

“There must be some mistake,” said Ida in perplexity. “I don’t know any of the clerks here. Oh–why–there’s another Ida Mitchell in town! Can it be possible my cake has gone to her?”

The manager thought it very possible, and offered to send around and see. But Ida said it was on her way home and she would call herself.

At the dismal little house on Marlboro Road she was sent up three flights of stairs to the other Ida Mitchell’s small hall bedroom. The other Ida Mitchell opened the door for her. Behind her, on the table, was the cake–such a fine, big, brown cake, with raisins sticking out all over it!

“Why, how do you do, Miss Mitchell!” exclaimed the other Ida with shy pleasure. “Come in. I didn’t know you were in town. It’s real good of you to come and see me. And just see what I’ve had sent to me! Isn’t it a beauty? I was so surprised when it came–and, oh, so glad! I was feeling so blue and lonesome–as if I hadn’t a friend in the world. I–I–yes, I was crying when that cake came. It has just made the world over for me. Do sit down and I’ll cut you a piece. I’m sure you’re as fond of fruit cake as I am.”

Ida sat down in a chair, feeling bewildered and awkward. This was a nice predicament! How could she tell that other Ida that the cake didn’t belong to her? The poor thing was so delighted. And, oh, what a bare, lonely little room! The big, luxurious cake seemed to emphasize the bareness and loneliness.

“Who–who sent it to you?” she asked lamely.

“It must have been Mrs. Henderson, because there is nobody else who would,” answered the other Ida. “Two years ago I was going to school in Trenton and I boarded with her. When I left her to come to Clifton she told me she would send me a cake for Christmas. Well, I expected that cake last year–and it didn’t come. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was. You’ll think me very childish. But I was so lonely, with no home to go to like the other girls. But she sent it this year, you see. It is so nice to think that somebody has remembered me at New Year’s. It isn’t the cake itself–it’s the thought behind it. It has just made all the difference in the world. There–just sample it, Miss Mitchell.”

The other Ida cut a generous slice from the cake and passed it to her guest. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed. She was really a very sweet-looking little thing–not a bit like her usual pale, timid self.

Ida ate the cake slowly. What was she to do? She couldn’t tell the other Ida the truth about the cake. But the girls she had asked in to help eat it that very evening! And Miss Monroe! Oh, dear, it was too bad. But it couldn’t be helped. She wouldn’t blot out that light on the other Ida’s face for anything! Of course, she would find out the truth in time–probably after she had written to thank Mrs. Henderson for the cake; but meanwhile she would have enjoyed the cake, and the supposed kindness back of it would tide her over her New Year loneliness.