g events in her life. The children in disgrace, Edith
silent and woe-begone in her own room, she and Jack watching hour after
hour in the big cellar for the chickens that never came, and, above all,
the impending arrival of the second Mrs. Franklin.

Aunt Betsey journeyed down from Wayborough as soon as she heard the
news. They did not know she was coming until they saw one of the station
carriages slowly approaching the house, with Miss Trinkett's well-known
bonnet inside of it. She waved her hand gayly, and opened the subject at
once.

"Well, well," she cried, "this is news indeed! I want to know! Nephew
John going to be married again! Just what I always thought he had best
do for the good of you children. Have you seen the bride, and what is
she like?"

It was a warm June day, and the Franklins were on the piazza when this
was shouted to them from the carriage in their aunt's shrill voice.
Edith writhed. Though the news was all over Brenton by now, this would
be a fine bit for the driver to take back.

Jack and Cynthia offered to help Aunt Betsey to alight, but she waved
them aside.

"Don't think you must help me, my dears. This good news has put new life
into me. How do you all do?" giving each one of her birdlike kisses, and
settling herself in a favorite rocking-chair.

The younger children ran to her, hoping for treasures from the
carpet-bag.

"I do declare," exclaimed she, "if I didn't forget all about you in the
news of the bride! Never mind; wait till next time, and I'll bring you
something extry nice when I come to see the bride."

"What's a bride?" asked Willy.

"La, child, don't you know? They haven't been kept in ignorance, I
hope?"

"Oh no, but they haven't heard her called that," explained Cynthia.

"Do you mean the lady that is coming here to live?" asked Janet. "Well,
we don't like her, me and Willy. She's made Edith cross and sobby, and
she's made you forget our presents, and she's made a lot of fuss. We
don't want her here at all."

Miss Trinkett looked shocked. "My dear children!" she exclaimed, too
much aghast to say more. Then she turned to Edith.

"But now tell me all about it. Have you seen her, and is she young?"

"I have not seen her, Aunt Betsey, and I don't wish to. I don't know
whether she is young or old, and I don't care. Won't you take me home
with you, Aunt Betsey? Can't I live with you now? I'm not needed here."

Miss Betsey stared at her in amazement.

"Edith Fran