all. Edith going and
shutting herself up when I come, because she doesn't want a step-mother,
and you making fun of an aged aunt--not so very aged either. Why, when
Silas hears this I just dread to think what he'll say. I am going home
at once, Jack. You are the only well-behaved one among them. You may
drive me to the train."

"Oh, Aunt Betsey, not to-day! Please don't go."

"I couldn't answer for my tongue if I staid here to-night. I had best go
home and think it out. When I remember all I said to Maria Parker, and
all she said to me, I'm about crazy, just as she said I was."

And presently she drove away, sitting very stiff and very erect in the
old buggy that had held her prototype two weeks before, and Cynthia was
left in tears, with one more calamity added to her already burdened
soul.

Why had she ever played a practical joke? If she lived a hundred years
she never would again.

Edith heard the news of Aunt Betsey's sudden departure in silence, and
Cynthia received no sympathy from her. And very soon it was temporarily
forgotten in preparations for the advent of the bride.

The day came at last, a beautiful one in June. The house was filled with
lovely flowers which Cynthia had arranged--Edith would have nothing to
do with it--and the supper-table was decked with the finest China and
the old silver service and candelabra of their great-grandmother.

The servants, who had lived with them so long, could scarcely do their
work. They peered from the kitchen windows for a first sight of their
new mistress, and wondered what she would be like.

"These are sorry times," said Mary Ann, the old cook, as she wiped her
eyes with the corner of her apron.

Outside the place had never looked so peacefully lovely. It was late,
and the afternoon sun cast long shadows from the few trees on the lawn.
In the distance the cows were heard lowing at milking-time. At one spot
the river could be seen glinting through the trees, and June roses
filled the air with fragrance.

All was to the outward eye just as it had always been, summer after
summer, since the Franklins could remember, and yet how different it
really was.

Jack had gone to the station to meet the travellers. Edith, Cynthia,
Janet, and Willy were waiting on the porch, all in their nicest clothes.
The children had been bribed to keep their hands clean, and up to this
moment they were immaculate. Ben and Chester lay at full length on the
banking in front of th