, he being a man as
anything like that upsets for a week. He never did have what you might
call a good liver, and anything unpleasant turns his bile all the wrong
way. Only last week, when Miss Knibbs, our first assistant, sent an
outsize in combinations to a customer who's _very_ particular about any
remark being passed about her stoutness, Bill was sick half of the
night....

"I can't think why you don't send her away to Carrie's. The country
would do her good, and Carrie's got no children of her own. I'd like to
have her myself, only I'm afraid she'd be such a bad example to Percy
and Claude."

Mrs. Raeburn was silent. Vulnerable through Jenny's lapse from modesty,
she had no sting for her nephews.

Finally it was settled that Jenny should spend a year with Mrs.
Threadgale at Galton. It was laid on the shoulders of Hampshire to curb
her naughtiness. It remained to be seen how far country sights and
sounds would civilize her rudeness.

Having made up her mind to banish the child, Mrs. Raeburn began at once
to regret the decision. With all her disobedience, Jenny was still the
favorite. "She was such a character," in her mother's words; and her
gay, dark eyes and silvery curls would be missed from Hagworth Street.
But the day of departure came along. A four-wheeler threw a shadow on
the door. There were kisses and handkerchiefs and last injunctions and
all the paraphernalia of separation. Jenny was bundled in. Mrs. Raeburn
followed.

"Now mind, Ruby," cried the latter from the window, "don't you let May
get putting nothing in her mouth, and see Mr. Raeburn has his tea
comfortable, and, Alfie, you dare misbehave while I'm away. Good-bye,
all."

* * * * *

At last the train drew up at Galton along a gray gravel platform that
smelt fresh and flowery after the railway carriage. There was lilac in
bloom and red hawthorn, and a pile of tin trunks, and when the train had
puffed on, Jenny could hear birdsong everywhere.

While the two sisters embraced, the little girl surveyed her new aunt.
She was more like her mother than Aunt Mabel. Nicer altogether than Aunt
Mabel, though she disliked the flavor of veil that was mingled with the
kisses of welcome.

"They'll wheel the luggage along on a barrow," said Aunt Caroline. "It's
not far where we live."

They turned into the wide country street with its amber sunlight and
sound of footsteps, and very soon arrived before the shop of James