hew of Aunt Peace,
but not so nearly related as I, because I am her legal daughter. I was
born of poor but honest parents," she went on, having evidently absorbed
the phrase from her school Reader, "so I was respectable, even at the
beginning. When Aunt Peace took me, I got social position, and if I am
always a lady, I will keep it. Otherwise not."

The girl was very lovely as she leaned back in the quaint old chair to
rest for a moment. She was still regarding the candlestick attentively
and did not look at Lynn. "It is strange to me," she said, "that coming
from the city, as you do, you should not know about such things." Here
she sent him the quickest possible glance from a pair of inscrutable
eyes, and he began to wonder if she were not merely amusing herself. He
was tempted to kiss her, but wisely refrained.

"Iris," called Aunt Peace, from the doorway, "will you wash the Royal
Worcester plate? And Lynn, it is time you were practising."

Lynn worked hard until the bell rang for luncheon. When he went down, he
found the others already at the table. "We did not wait for you," Aunt
Peace explained, "because we were in a hurry. Immediately after
luncheon, on Wednesdays, I take my nap. I sleep from two to three. Will
you please see that the house is quiet?"

She spoke to Margaret, but she looked at Lynn. "Which means," said he,
"that those who are studying the violin will kindly not practise until
after three o'clock, and that it would be considered a kindness if they
would not walk much in the house, their feet being heavy."

"Lynn," said the old lady, irrelevantly, "you are extremely intelligent.
I expect great things of you."

That weekly hour of luxury was the only relaxation in Miss Field's busy,
happy life. Breakfast at seven and bed at ten--this was the ironclad
rule of the house. Ever since she came to East Lancaster, Iris had kept
solemn guard over the front door on Wednesdays, from two to three. Rash
visitors never reached the bell, but were met, on the doorstep, by a
little maid whose tiny finger rested upon her lip. "Hush," she would
say, "Aunt Peace is asleep!" Interruptions were infrequent, however, for
East Lancaster knew Miss Field's habits--and respected them.

"Good-bye, my dears," she said, as she paused at the foot of the winding
stairs, "I leave you for a far country, where, perhaps, I shall meet
some of my old friends. I shall visit strange lands and have many new
experiences, some of which