trunks to shut
them, and sent parcel-post packages after them of the things they had
left out."

"Sister Loretto says that I am not naturally tidy, so she keeps me at
it. I used to weep my eyes out when she'd send me back to my room----
But crying doesn't do any good with Sister Loretto."

"Crying is never any good," said Aunt Claudia. She was of Spartan
mold. "Crying only weakens. When things are so bad that you must cry,
then do it where the world can't see."

Becky found herself thrilled by the thought of Aunt Claudia crying in
secret. She was a martial little soul in spite of her distinctly
feminine type of mind.

Aunt Claudia's lingerie, chastely French-embroidered in little
scallops, with fresh white ribbons run in, was laid out on the bed in
neat piles. There was also a gray corduroy dressing-gown, lined with
silk.

"This will be too warm," Becky said; "please let me put in my white
crepe house-coat. It will look so pretty, Aunt Claudia, when Truxton
comes in the morning to kiss you----"

Aunt Claudia had been holding on to her emotions tightly. The thought
of that morning kiss which for three dreadful years had been denied
her--for three dreadful years she had not known whether Truxton would
ever breeze into her room before breakfast with his "Mornin' Mums."
She felt that if she allowed herself any softness or yielding at this
moment she would spoil her spotless record of self-control and weep in
maudlin fashion in Becky's arms.

So in self-defense, she spoke with coldness. "I never wear borrowed
clothes, my dear."

Becky, somewhat dishevelled and warm from her exertions, sat down to
argue it. "I haven't had it on. And I'd love to give it to you----"

"My dear, of course not. It's very generous of you--very----" Aunt
Claudia buried her face suddenly in the pillows and sobbed stormily.

Becky stood up. "Oh, Aunt Claudia," she gasped. Then with the
instinctive knowledge that silence was best, she gave her aunt a little
pat on the shoulder and crept from the room.

She crept back presently and packed the crepe house-coat with the other
things. Then, since Aunt Claudia made no sign, she went down-stairs to
the kitchen.

Mandy, the cook, who had a complexion like an old copper cent, and who
wore a white Dutch cap in place of the traditional bandana, was cutting
corn from the cob for fritters.

"If you'll make a cup of tea," Becky said, "I'll take it up to Aunt
Claudia. She's lying d