snug little room in a Back Bay boarding-house. She was a
slender, white-haired woman with kind blue eyes, and a lovable smile.
Her cheeks were still faintly pink, and her fine silver-white hair broke
into little kinks and curls about her ears. According to Bertram she
always made one think of "lavender and old lace."

She welcomed William cordially this morning, though with faint surprise
in her eyes.

"Yes, I know I'm an early caller, and an unexpected one," began William,
hurriedly. "And I shall have to plunge straight into the matter, too,
for there isn't time to preamble. I've taken an eighteen-year-old girl
to bring up, Aunt Hannah, and I want you to come down and live with us
to chaperon her."

"My grief and conscience, WILLIAM!" gasped the little woman, agitatedly.

"Yes, yes, I know, Aunt Hannah, everything you would say if you could.
But please skip the hysterics. We've all had them, and Kate has already
used every possible adjective that you could think up. Now it's just
this." And he hurriedly gave Mrs. Stetson a full account of the case,
and told her plainly what he hoped and expected that she would do for
him.

"Why, yes, of course--I'll come," acquiesced the lady, a little
breathlessly, "if--if you are sure you're going to--keep her."

"Good! And remember I said 'now,' please--that I wanted you to come
right away, to-day. Of course Kate can't stay. Just get in half a dozen
women to help you pack, and come."

"Half a dozen women in that little room, William--impossible!"

"Well, I only meant to get enough so you could come right off this
morning."

"But I don't need them, William. There are only my clothes and books,
and such things. You know it is a FURNISHED room."

"All right, all right, Aunt Hannah. I wanted to make sure you hurried,
that's all. You see, I don't want Billy to suspect just how much she's
upsetting us. I've asked Kate to take her over to her house for the
day, while Bertram is moving down-stairs, and while we're getting you
settled. I--I think you'll like it there, Aunt Hannah," added William,
anxiously. "Of course Billy's got Spunk, but--" he hesitated, and smiled
a little.

"Got what?" faltered the other.

"Spunk. Oh, I don't mean THAT kind," laughed William, in answer to the
dismayed expression on his aunt's face. "Spunk is a cat."

"A cat!--but such a name, William! I--I think we'll change that."

"Eh? Oh, you do," murmured William, with a curious smile. "Very well; b