so white she wouldn't look much older than your mother."

"You don't have to be very old to be a great-aunt," said Cecily. "Kitty
Marr has a great-aunt who is just the same age as her mother. I expect
it was burying so many husbands turned her hair white. But Aunt Eliza
doesn't look just as I expected she would either."

"She's dressed more stylishly than I expected," said Felicity. "I
thought she'd be real old-fashioned, but her clothes aren't too bad at
all."

"She wouldn't be bad-looking if 'tweren't for her nose," said Peter.
"It's too long, and crooked besides."

"You needn't criticize our relations like that," said Felicity tartly.

"Well, aren't you doing it yourselves?" expostulated Peter.

"That's different," retorted Felicity. "Never you mind Great-aunt
Eliza's nose."

"Well, don't expect me to talk to her," said Dan, "'cause I won't."

"I'm going to be very polite to her," said Felicity. "She's rich. But
how are we to entertain her, that's the question."

"What does the Family Guide say about entertaining your rich, deaf old
aunt?" queried Dan ironically.

"The Family Guide says we should be polite to EVERYBODY," said Cecily,
with a reproachful look at Dan.

"The worst of it is," said Felicity, looking worried, "that there isn't
a bit of old bread in the house and she can't eat new, I've heard father
say. It gives her indigestion. What will we do?"

"Make a pan of rusks and apologize for having no old bread," suggested
the Story Girl, probably by way of teasing Felicity. The latter,
however, took it in all good faith.

"The Family Guide says we should never apologize for things we can't
help. It says it's adding insult to injury to do it. But you run over
home for a loaf of stale bread, Sara, and it's a good idea about the
rusks. I'll make a panful."

"Let me make them," said the Story Girl, eagerly. "I can make real good
rusks now."

"No, it wouldn't do to trust you," said Felicity mercilessly. "You
might make some queer mistake and Aunt Eliza would tell it all over the
country. She's a fearful old gossip. I'll make the rusks myself. She
hates cats, so we mustn't let Paddy be seen. And she's a Methodist, so
mind nobody says anything against Methodists to her."

"Who's going to say anything, anyhow?" asked Peter belligerently.

"I wonder if I might ask her for her name for my quilt square?"
speculated Cecily. "I believe I will. She looks so much friendlier than
I expected. Of course she'l