e mirthful, yet sorrowful withal.

"Ay, I would so!" quoth she.

"Child," Aunt _Joyce_ makes answer, "`happy is the man that hath no
history.'"

"But things do happen, _Milly_," saith _Edith_. "Thou hast forgot
_Anstace_ her wedding."

"_That_ something happening!" pouts _Milly_. "Stupid humdrum business!
Do but think, to wed a man that dwelleth the next door, which thou hast
known all thy life! Why, I would as lief not be wed at all, very nigh."

"It seemed to suit _Anstace_," puts in _Edith_.

"Aught should do that."

"Ay," saith Aunt _Joyce_, something drily, "`godliness is great riches,
if a man be content with that he hath.'" [Note 1.]

"Easy enough, trow, when you have plenty," quoth _Milly_.

"Nay, it is hardest then," saith she. "`Much would have more.'"

"What wist Aunt _Joyce_ thereabout?" murmurs _Milly_, so that I could
just hear. "She never lacked nought she wanted."

"Getting oldish, _Milly_, but not going deaf, thank God," saith Aunt
_Joyce_, of her dry fashion. "Nay, child, thou art out there. Time was
when I desired one thing, far beyond all other things in this world, and
did not get it."

"Never, _Aunt_?"

"Never, _Milly_." And a somewhat pained look came into her face, that
is wont to seem so calm.

"What was it, Aunt _Joyce_, sweet heart?"

"Well, I took it for fine gold, and it turned out to be pinchbeck,"
saith she. "There's a deal of that sort of stuff in this world."

Methought _Milly_ feared to ask further, and all was still till _Edith_
saith--

"Would you avise us, Aunt _Joyce_, to keep a chronicle, even though
things did not happen?"

"Things will happen, trust me," she made answer. "Ay, dear maids,
methinks it should be profitable for you."

"Now, Aunt _Joyce_, I would you had not said that!"

"Why, _Milly_?"

"By reason that things which be profitable be alway dry and gloomsome."

"Not alway, _Lettice Eden's_ daughter."

I could not help but smile when Aunt _Joyce_ said this. For indeed,
_Mother_ hath oft told us how, when she was a young maid like _Milly_,
she did sorely hate all gloom and sorrowfulness, nor could not abide for
to think thereon. And _Milly_ is much of that turn.

"Then which of us shall keep the grand chronicle?" saith _Edith_, when
we had made an end of laughing.

"Why not all of you?" quoth Aunt _Joyce_. "Let each keep it a month
a-piece, turn about."

"And you, Aunt _Joyce_?"

"Nay, I will keep no chronicles. I would n