it _will_ go on raining--and
I feel so--so--dull."

"I didn't spoil her doll, mother," cried Olly, eagerly. "I only rubbed
some jam on its cheeks to make them a nicey pink--only some of it
_would_ sticky her dress--I didn't mean to."

"How would you like some jam rubbed on your cheeks, sir?" said Mrs.
Norton, who could scarcely help laughing at poor Katie's appearance when
nurse handed the doll to her. "Suppose you leave Milly's dolls alone for
the future; but cheer up, Milly! I think I can make Katie very nearly
right again. Come upstairs to my room and we'll try."

After a good deal of sponging and rubbing, and careful drying by the
kitchen fire, Katie came very nearly right again, and then Mrs. Norton
tried whether some lessons would drive the rain out of the children's
heads. But the lessons did not go well. It was all Milly could do to
help crying every time she got a figure wrong in her sum, and Olly took
about ten minutes to read two lines of his reading-book. Olly had just
begun his sums, and Milly was standing up to say some poetry to her
mother, looking a woebegone little figure, with pale cheeks and heavy
eyes, when suddenly there was a noise of wheels outside, and both the
children turned to look out of the window.

"A carriage! a carriage!" shouted Olly, jumping down, and running to the
window.

There, indeed, was one of the shut-up "cars," as the Westmoreland people
call them, coming up the Ravensnest drive.

"It's Aunt Emma," said Mrs. Norton, starting up, "how good of her to
come over on such a day. Run, children, and open the front door."

Down flew Milly and Olly, tumbling over one another in their hurry; but
father had already thrown the door open, and who should they see
stepping down the carriage-steps but Aunt Emma herself, with her soft
gray hair shining under her veil, and her dear kind face as gentle and
cheery as ever.

"Aunt Emma! Aunt Emma!" shouted Olly, dancing up to her, and throwing
his arms round her, "_are_ you come to tell us about old Mother
Quiverquake?"

"You gipsy, don't strangle me! Well, Lucy dear, here I am. Will you have
me to dinner? I thought we'd all be company for each other this bad day.
Why, Milly, what have you been doing to your cheeks?"

"She's been crying," said Olly, in spite of Milly's pulling him by the
sleeve to be quiet, "because I stickened her doll."

"Well, and quite right too. Dolls weren't made to be stickied. But now,
who's going to carry my