t once?"

"Why--yes, perhaps so. Why not? Then you'd be all settled here when she
comes home. I'm sure, the sooner you come, the better I'll be pleased,"
he smiled.

Aunt Hannah turned sharply.

"Here!" she ejaculated. "William Henshaw, you didn't suppose I was
coming _here_ to live, did you?"

It was William's turn to look amazed.

"Why, of course you're coming here! Where else should you go, pray?"

"Where I was before--before Billy came--to you," returned Aunt Hannah a
little tremulously, but with a certain dignity. "I shall take a room in
some quiet boarding-house, of course."

"Nonsense, Aunt Hannah! As if Billy would listen to that! You came
before; why not come now?"

Aunt Hannah lifted her chin the fraction of an inch.

"You forget. I was needed before. Billy is a married woman now. She
needs no chaperon."

"Nonsense!" scowled William, again. "Billy will always need you."

Aunt Hannah shook her head mournfully.

"I like to think--she wants me, William, but I know, in my heart, it
isn't best."

"Why not?"

There was a moment's pause; then, decisively came the answer.

"Because I think young married folks should not have outsiders in the
home."

William laughed relievedly.

"Oh, so that's it! Well, Aunt Hannah, you're no outsider. Come, run
right along home and pack your trunk."

Aunt Hannah was plainly almost crying; but she held her ground.

"William, I can't," she reiterated.

"But--Billy is such a child, and--"

For once in her circumspect life Aunt Hannah was guilty of an
interruption.

"Pardon me, William, she is not a child. She is a woman now, and she has
a woman's problems to meet."

"Well, then, why don't you help her meet them?" retorted William, still
with a whimsical smile.

But Aunt Hannah did not smile. For a minute she did not speak; then,
with her eyes studiously averted, she said:

"William, the first four years of my married life were--were spoiled by
an outsider in our home. I don't mean to spoil Billy's."

William relaxed visibly. The smile fled from his face.

"Why--Aunt--Hannah!" he exclaimed.

The little old lady turned with a weary sigh.

"Yes, I know. You are shocked, of course. I shouldn't have told you.
Still, it is all past long ago, and--I wanted to make you understand
why I can't come. He was my husband's eldest brother--a bachelor. He
was good and kind, and meant well, I suppose; but--he interfered with
everything. I was young, and probably he