ht asylums weren't run on proper principles," said
the Tall Lady briskly. "Bless your heart, child, don't look so scared.
You're welcome to pat the cat all you like. Come in and I'll give you
some flowers."

"Thank you, but I am not allowed to go off the grounds," said
Charlotte firmly, "and I think I'd rather not have any flowers because
the matron might want to know where I got them, and then she would
have this gap closed up. I live in mortal dread for fear it will be
closed anyhow. It's very uncomfortable--living in mortal dread."

The Tall Lady laughed a very jolly laugh. "Yes, I should think it
would be," she agreed. "I haven't had that experience."

Then they had a jolly talk, and every evening after that Charlotte
went to the gap and stroked the Very Handsome Cat and chatted to the
Tall Lady.

"Do you live all alone in that big house?" she asked wonderingly one
day.

"All alone," said the Tall Lady.

"Did you always live alone?"

"No. I had a sister living with me once. But I don't want to talk
about her. You'll oblige me, Charlotte, by _not_ talking about her."

"I won't then," agreed Charlotte. "I can understand why people don't
like to have their sisters talked about sometimes. Lily Mitchell has a
big sister who was sent to jail for stealing. Of course Lily doesn't
like to talk about her."

The Tall Lady laughed a little bitterly. "My sister didn't steal. She
married a man I detested, that's all."

"Did he drink?" asked Charlotte gravely. "The matron's husband drank
and that was why she left him and took to running an orphan asylum. I
think I'd rather put up with a drunken husband than live in an orphan
asylum."

"My sister's husband didn't drink," said the Tall Lady grimly. "He was
beneath her, that was all. I told her I'd never forgive her and I
never shall. He's dead now--he died a year after she married him--and
she's working for her living. I dare say she doesn't find it very
pleasant. She wasn't brought up to that. Here, Charlotte, is a
turnover for you. I made it on purpose for you. Eat it and tell me if
you don't think I'm a good cook. I'm dying for a compliment. I never
get any now that I've got old. It's a dismal thing to get old and have
nobody to love you except a cat, Charlotte."

"I think it is just as bad to be young and have nobody to love you,
not _even_ a cat," sighed Charlotte, enjoying the turnover,
nevertheless.

"I dare say it is," agreed the Tall Lady, looking as if sh