he lived in when she was a girl, little,
tucked-up rooms, air-tight stoves, a tidy on every chair, and she made
portieres out of paper beads that tickled 'em both silly--yes, and
tickled everybody in the ear that went through 'em, though that wan't
what I meant to say. When she died, Joe wouldn't live here, said he
wouldn't be so homesick for Julia in another house, this one was full of
her. So, your Aunt Susan bought it, and what did she do?

"She knocked out partitions, took down fire-boards, threw out a good
parlor set and lugged in tables and chairs from all over, put big panes
of glass where there was little ones--in some places, she did, and only
the good angels and Susan Winchester knows why she didn't change 'em
all, they're terrible mean to wash--made the front hall into a setting
room and the parlor into a bedroom, got two bathrooms and no dining
room--well, to make a long story short, this house is now Susan
Winchester. Anybody that knows Susan would know it was her house if they
see it in China.

"Did you learn to keep house with your mother?"

The transition was so abrupt that Anne started. "I--my aunt brought me
up--and nine cousins," she answered. "My aunt is as unlike Burt's as you
can imagine, but just as dear and good. She had a big family, and there
was never time enough to have her home as she wanted it--so she
thought--and I thought so, too--but yet--Aunt Milly's home was always
full of happy children, and, perhaps, that's what she really wanted,
more than dainty furnishings or a spotless kitchen."

"Folks, mostly, get what they want, even if they don't know it,"
confirmed Mrs. Brown. "Look at the Admiral, here. He don't want to come
over and live with me, same as Susan meant he should. He wants to stay
right in his own home, and have his meals and petting same as usual, and
here you come along today and give them to him. Trouble is, folks don't
always know what it is they want."

When Mrs. Brown went back to her own dinner, she left Anne with
something to think about. Washing the dishes in Aunt Susan's white sink,
which was fitted to that very purpose, drying them upon a rack which
held every dish apart from its neighbors, and, finally, polishing the
quaintly shaped pieces upon Aunt Susan's checked towel, which remained
dry and spotless; opening every drawer and cupboard to see that all was
left in the dainty order she had found there, Anne had a clear vision of
the blue and silver furnishings