fancying them whispering sadly to one another
of the summer that was gone and the leaves they had borne now dead. But it
would be a dreadful thing in the aunts' opinion for a woman, and
especially a young one, to take a long walk in the woods alone, in winter
too, and with no object whatever in view but a walk! What a waste of time!

There were two places of refuge for Marcia during the weeks that followed.
There was home. How sweet that word sounded to her! How she longed to go
back there, with David coming home to his quiet meals three times a day,
and with her own time to herself to do as she pleased. With housewifely
zeal that was commendable in the eyes of the aunts, Marcia insisted upon
going down to her own house every morning to see that all was right,
guiltily knowing that in her heart she meant to hurry to her beloved books
and piano. To be sure it was cold and cheerless in the empty house. She
dared not make up fires and leave them, and she dared not stay too long
lest the aunts would feel hurt at her absence, but she longed with an
inexpressible longing to be back there by herself, away from that terrible
supervision and able to live her own glad little life and think her own
thoughts untrammeled by primness.

Sometimes she would curl up in David's big arm-chair and have a good cry,
after which she would take a book and read until the creeping chills down
her spine warned her she must stop. Even then she would run up and down
the hall or take a broom and sweep vigorously to warm herself and then go
to the cold keys and play a sad little tune. All her tunes seemed sad like
a wail while David was gone.

The other place of refuge was Aunt Clarinda's room. Thither she would
betake herself after supper, to the delight of the old lady. Then the
other two occupants of the house were left to themselves and might unbend
from their rigid surveillance for a little while. Marcia often wondered if
they ever did unbend.

There was a large padded rocking chair in Aunt Clarinda's room and Marcia
would laughingly take the little old lady in her arms and place her
comfortably in it, after a pleasant struggle on Miss Clarinda's part to
put her guest into it. They had this same little play every evening, and
it seemed to please the old lady mightily. Then when she was conquered she
always sat meekly laughing, a fine pink color in her soft peachy cheek,
the candle light from the high shelf making flickering sparkles in her ol