as rather rheumatic. On
the whole, Griselda was not sorry. It would have taken such a _very_
long time, you see, to have had all the histories twice over, and
possibly, if Griselda had got tired, she might have forgotten about the
"thank you's" or "no, thank you's" twice over.

The old house looked quite as queer and quaint by daylight as it had
seemed the evening before; almost more so indeed, for the view from the
windows added to the sweet, odd "old-fashionedness" of everything.

"We have beautiful roses in summer," observed Miss Grizzel, catching
sight of the direction in which the child's eyes were wandering.

"I wish it was summer. I do love summer," said Griselda. "But there is a
very rosy scent in the rooms even now, Aunt Grizzel, though it is
winter, or nearly winter."

Miss Grizzel looked pleased.

"My pot-pourri," she explained.

They were just then standing in what she called the "great saloon," a
handsome old room, furnished with gold-and-white chairs, that must once
have been brilliant, and faded yellow damask hangings. A feeling of awe
had crept over Griselda as they entered this ancient drawing-room. What
grand parties there must have been in it long ago! But as for dancing in
it _now_--dancing, or laughing, or chattering--such a thing was quite
impossible to imagine!

Miss Grizzel crossed the room to where stood in one corner a marvellous
Chinese cabinet, all black and gold and carving. It was made in the
shape of a temple, or a palace--Griselda was not sure which. Any way, it
was very delicious and wonderful. At the door stood, one on each side,
two solemn mandarins; or, to speak more correctly, perhaps I should
say, a mandarin and his wife, for the right-hand figure was evidently
intended to be a lady.

Miss Grizzel gently touched their heads. Forthwith, to Griselda's
astonishment, they began solemnly to nod.

"Oh, how do you make them do that, Aunt Grizzel?" she exclaimed.

"Never you mind, my dear; it wouldn't do for _you_ to try to make them
nod. They wouldn't like it," replied Miss Grizzel mysteriously. "Respect
to your elders, my dear, always remember that. The mandarins are _many_
years older than you--older than I myself, in fact."

Griselda wondered, if this were so, how it was that Miss Grizzel took
such liberties with them herself, but she said nothing.

"Here is my last summer's pot-pourri," continued Miss Grizzel, touching
a great china jar on a little stand, close beside the