grandson Aubrey, and Hans Floriszoon, the orphan nephew of an old
friend, Mynheer Stuyvesant, who had been adopted into the family when a
little child. It was also theoretically the abode of Lettice's Aunt
Faith, who was Aubrey's mother, and who practically flitted from the one
house to the other at her rather capricious will. It had become her
habit to depart to Keswick whenever her feelings were outraged at
Selwick; and as Faith's feelings were of that order which any thing
might outrage, and nobody knew of it till they were outraged, her abode
during the last six years had been mainly with the sister who never
petted her, but from whom she would stand ten times more than from the
tenderer hearts at Selwick.

Lettice's hand was on the door when it opened, and there stood her
Cousin Aubrey.

"Good even, Aunt Temperance," said he. "You are right in time for
supper."

"Thank you, Master Aubrey Late-hours," replied she; "'tis a bit too late
for my supper, and Lettice's likewise, without she can eat two of a
night. How is it with my Lady Lettice? I hope, lad, you help and
comfort her all you can."

Aubrey looked rather astonished.

"Comfort her?" he said. "She's all right."

"How old are you, Aubrey?"

"Why, Aunt Temperance, you know I was twenty last month."

"One makes blunders betimes, lad. That speech of thine sounded about
ten."

"What mean you, Aunt Temperance?"

"Nay, lad, if God have not given thee eyes and brains, I shall be
ill-set to do it.--Run in, Lettice. _No_, I'm not coming--not while
to-morrow morning. Remember to be up early, and help all you can--both
of you. Good even."

Temperance shut the door, and they heard her quick foot tread sharply
down the gravel walk.

"I say, 'tis jolly moving house, isn't it?" said Aubrey.

"I can't think why Aunt Temperance supposes that Grandmother or any body
should want comforting."

"Well, we are young, and she is old," replied Lettice; "I suppose old
folks care more about those things, perhaps."

"Oh, 'tis but because they are lazy and have the rheumatism," said
Aubrey, laughing. "Beside, Grandmother cares not about things like
Mother. Mother's for ever fretting, but Grandmother's always cheery."

The cousins left the deep whitewashed porch and the oak-panelled hall,
and went forward into the chief sitting-room of the house, known as the
great parlour. The word "withdrawing-room" was still restricted to
palaces and palatial mansions,