ubject. My aunts Amelia and Deborah belonged to that class of
people, unhappily rare, who possess a power of generating in others an
instinctive knowledge of "dangerous ground"--a power which enabled
them to avert, both from themselves and the might-be offender, many a
painful situation. To proceed--the nakedness of the walls of
Hennersley was veiled--who shall say it was not designedly veiled--by
a thick covering of clematis and ivy, and in the latter innumerable
specimens of the feathered tribe found a sure and safe retreat.

On entering the house, one stepped at once into a large hall. A
gallery ran round it, and from the centre rose a broad oak staircase.
The rooms, with one or two exceptions, opened into one another, and
were large, and low and long in shape; the walls and floors were of
oak and the ceilings were crossed by ponderous oak beams.

The fireplaces, too, were of the oldest fashion; and in their
comfortable ingle-nook my aunts--in the winter--loved to read or knit.

When the warm weather came, they made similar use of the deep-set
window-sills, over which they indulgently permitted me to scramble on
to the lawn.

The sunlight was a special feature of Hennersley. Forcing its way
through the trellised panes, it illuminated the house with a radiancy,
a soft golden radiancy I have never seen elsewhere.

My relatives seemed to possess some phenomenal attraction for the
sunlight, for, no matter where they sat, a beam brighter than the rest
always shone on them; and, when they got up, I noticed that it always
followed them, accompanying them from room to room and along the
corridors.

But this was only one of the many pleasant mysteries that added to the
joy of my visits to Hennersley. I felt sure that the house was
enchanted--that it was under the control of some benevolent being who
took a kindly interest in the welfare of my relatives.

I remember once, on the occasion of my customary good-morning to Miss
Amelia, who invariably breakfasted in bed, I inhaled the most
delicious odour of heliotrope. It was wafted towards me, in a cool
current of air, as I approached her bed, and seemed, to my childish
fancy, to be the friendly greeting of a sparkling sunbeam that rested
on Miss Amelia's pillow.

I was so charmed with the scent, that, alas! forgetful of my manners,
I gave a loud sniff, and with a rapturous smile ejaculated, "Oh!
Auntie! Cherry pie!"

Miss Amelia started. "Dear me, child!" she exclaime