ached a large, sprawling, unpainted dwelling on the
outskirts of the village.

There were barns back of the Sherwood house; there was no fence between
the yard and the road, the windows of the house stared out upon the
passerby, blindless, and many of them without shades. There was such a
painful newness about the building that it seemed to Nan the carpenters
must have just packed their tools and gone, while the painters had not
yet arrived.

"Well! Here we are," announced Mr. Henry Sherwood, as Tom held in the
still eager ponies. He stepped out and offered Nan his hand. "Home
again, little girl. I reckon Kate will be mighty glad to see you, that
she will."

Nan leaped out and began to stamp her feet on the hard snow, while Uncle
Henry lifted out the trunk and bags. Just as the ponies sprang away
again, a door in the ugly house opened and a tall, angular woman looked
forth.

"Bring her in, Hen!" she cried, in a high-pitched voice. "I want to see
her."

Nan went rather timidly up the path. Her aunt was almost as tall as her
husband. She was very bony and was flat-chested and unlovely in every
way. That is, so it seemed, when the homesick girl raised her eyes to
Aunt Kate's face.

That face was as brown as sole-leather, and the texture of the skin
seemed leathery as well. There was a hawklike nose dominating the
unfeminine face. The shallows below the cheekbones were deep, as
though she had suffered the loss of her back molars. The eyebrows were
straggly; the eyes themselves of a pale, watery blue; the mouth a thin
line when her colorless lips were closed; and her chin was as square and
determined as Uncle Henry's own.

As Nan approached she saw something else about this unlovely woman. On
her neck was a great, livid scar, of a hand's breadth, and which looked
like a scald, or burn. No attempt was made to conceal this unsightly
blemish.

Indeed, there was nothing about Aunt Kate Sherwood suggesting a
softening of her hard lines. Her plain, ugly print dress was cut low at
the throat, and had no collar or ruff to hide the scar. Nan's gaze was
fastened on that blemish before she was half way to the door, and she
could see nothing else at first.

The girl fought down a physical shudder when Aunt Kate's clawlike hands
seized her by both shoulders, and she stooped to kiss the visitor.

"Welcome, dear Nannie," her sharp voice said, and Nan thought that, with
ease, one might have heard her in the middle of the villa