arbed tail and breathed smoke, I couldn't scare her. The
patient's family, being more afraid of her than of me, invariably give
her free access to the sick-room."

"I don't want her to worry Araminta," said Ralph.

"If you don't want Araminta worried," replied Doctor Dexter,
conclusively, "you'd better put a few things into your suit case, and
move up there until she walks."

"All right," said Ralph. "I'm here to rout your malign influence.
It's me to sit by Araminta's crib and scare the old girl off. I'll bet
I can fix her."

"If you can," returned Doctor Dexter, "you are considerably more
intelligent than I take you to be."

With the welfare of his young patient very earnestly at heart, Ralph
went up the hill. Miss Evelina admitted him, and Ralph drew her into
the dusty parlour. "Can you take care of anybody?" he inquired,
without preliminary. "Can you follow directions?"

"I--think so."

"Then," Ralph went on, "I turn Araminta over to you. Miss Mehitable
has nothing to do with the case from this moment. Araminta is in your
care and mine. You take directions from me and from nobody else. Do
you understand?"

"Yes," whispered Miss Evelina, "but Mehitable won't--won't let me."

"Won't let you nothing," said Ralph, scornfully. "She's to be kept
out."

"She--she--" stammered Miss Evelina, "she's up there now."

Ralph started upstairs. Half-way up, he heard the murmur of voices,
and went up more quietly. He stepped lightly along the hall and stood
just outside Araminta's door, shamelessly listening.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said an indignant feminine
voice. "The idea of a big girl like you not bein' able to stand on a
ladder without fallin' off. It's your mother's foolishness cropping
out in you, after all I've done for you. I've stood on ladders all my
life and never so much as slipped. I believe you did it a purpose,
though what you thought you'd get for doin' it puzzles me some. P'raps
you thought you'd get out of the housecleanin' but you won't. When it
comes time for the Fall cleanin,' you'll do every stroke yourself, to
pay for all this trouble and expense. Do you know what it's costin'?
Four dollars and a half of good money! I should think you'd be
ashamed!"

"But, Aunt Hitty--" began the girl, pleadingly.

"Stop! Don't you 'Aunt Hitty' me," continued the angry voice. "You
needn't tell me you didn't fall off that ladder a purpose. Four
dollars and a half and