d for her life.

But she was only momentarily stunned by surpassing ecstasy.

"You'd better put some water in the bath-tub, Granite," she said,
recovering, "nothing else will be big enough."

The four young men drew up chairs and rivalled her smiles with theirs.

"I d'n know how I ever can thank you," said the old lady warmly. "I've
always had such a poor opinion o' life in cities, too!"

"Life in cities, my dear Miss Watkins," screamed Mitchell, "is always
pictured as very black, but it's only owing to the soft coal--not to the
people who burn it."

Aunt Mary smiled again.

"I guess the bath-tub will be big enough to keep 'em fresh," she said
simply, and Mitchell gave up and dried his forehead with his handkerchief.

They dined at home upon this occasion and afterwards took two carriages
for the theater. Aunt Mary, Jack, Clover, the American Beauties and the
violets went in the first, and what remained of the party and the floral
decorations followed in the second.

"I mean to smoke," said that part of the second load which habitually
answered to the name of Mitchell. "There is nothing so soothing when you
have thorns in your legs as a cigarette in your mouth."

"Too--too;" laughed his companion. "Jimmy! but our aunt is game, isn't
she?"

"To my order of thinking," said Mitchell thoughtfully scratching a match,
"Aunt Mary has been hung up in cold storage just long enough to have
acquired the exactly proper gamey flavor. It cannot be denied that to
worn, worldly, jaded mortals like you and me, the sight of fresh, ever
bubbling, youthful enthusiasm like hers is as thrilling and trilling and
rilling as--as--as--" he paused to light his cigarette.

[Illustration 4]

Aunt Mary and Her Escorts.

"Yes, you'd better stutter," said Burnett. "I thought you were running
ahead of your proper signals."

"It isn't that," said Mitchell, puffing gently. "It is that I suddenly
recollected that I was alone with you, and my brains tell me that it is a
waste of brains to use them in the sense of a plural noun with you. The
word in your company,--my dear boy--only comes to me as a verb--as an active
verb--and dear knows how often I have itched to apply it forcibly."

Then they drew up in front of the theater and saw Aunt Mary being unloaded
just beyond.

"Great Scott, I feel as if I was a part of a poster!" said Burnett, diving
into the carriage depths for the last