ometimes even in a
sausage. But, morally speaking, Miss Lillycrop lived well, because she
lived for others. Of course we do not mean to imply that she had no
regard for herself at all. On the contrary, she rejoiced in creature
comforts when she had the chance, and laid in daily "one ha'p'orth of
milk" all for herself. She paid for it, too, which is more than can be
said of every one. She also indulged herself to some extent in the
luxury of brown sugar at twopence-halfpenny a pound, and was absolutely
extravagant in hot water, which she not only imbibed in the form of weak
tea and _eau sucree_ hot, but actually took to bed with her every night
in an india-rubber bottle. But with the exception of these excusable
touches of selfishness, Miss Lillycrop ignored herself systematically,
and devoted her time, talents, and means, to the welfare of mankind.

Beside a trim little tea-table set for three, she sat one evening with
her hands folded on her lap, and her eyes fixed on the door as if she
expected it to make a sudden and unprovoked assault on her. In a few
minutes her expectations were almost realised, for the door burst open
and a boy burst into the room with--"Here we are, Cousin Lillycrop."

"Phil, darling, at last!" exclaimed Cousin Lillycrop, rising in haste.

Philip Maylands offered both hands, but Cousin Lillycrop declined them,
seized him round the neck, kissed him on both cheeks, and thrust him
down into an easy chair. Then she retired into her own easy chair and
gloated over him.

"How much you've grown--and so handsome, dear boy," murmured the little
lady.

"Ah! then, cousin, it's the blarney stone you've been kissing since I
saw you last!"

"No, Phil, I've kissed nothing but the cat since I saw you last. I kiss
that delicious creature every night on the forehead before going to bed,
but the undemonstrative thing does not seem to reciprocate. However, I
cannot help that."

Miss Lillycrop was right, she could not help it. She was overflowing
with the milk of human kindness, and, rather than let any of that
valuable liquid go to waste, she poured some of it, not inappropriately,
on the thankless cat.

"I'm glad you arrived before your sister, Phil," said Miss Lillycrop.
"Of course I asked her here to meet you. I am _so_ sorry the dear girl
cannot live with me: I had fully meant that she should, but my little
rooms are so far from the Post-Office, where her work is, you know, that
it could n