terest in the world which gave her a desire
to associate with men and women, independent of caste. None of her
children were with her; had it been three years earlier, she would not
have left home without them. Her hair was a little gray, and a wrinkle
or two had gathered about her mouth; but there was no other change.
I was not sorry to have her go, for she paid me a close and quiet
observation. At the moment of departure, she said in an undertone:
"What has become of that candor of which you were so proud?" "I am
more candid than ever," I answered, "for I am silent."

"I understand you better, now that I have seen you _en famille."_

"What do you think now?"

"I don't think I know; the Puritans have much to answer for in
your mother--" Turning to her she said, "My children, too, are so
different."

Mother gave her a sad smile, as Fanny announced the carriage, and they
drove away.

"No more visitors this year," said Veronica, yawning.

"No agreeable ones, I fancy," I answered.

"All the relations have had their turn for this year," remarked Aunt
Merce. But she was mistaken; an old lady came soon after this to spend
the winter. She lived but four miles from Surrey, but brought with her
all her clothes, and a large green parrot, which her son had brought
from foreign parts. Her name was Joy Morgeson; the fact of her being
cousin to father's grandmother entitled her to a raid upon us at any
season, and to call us "cousins." She felt, she said, that she must
come and attend the meetings regular, for her time upon earth was
short. But Joy was a hearty woman still, and, pious as she was,
delighted in rough and scandalous stories, the telling of which gave
her severe fits of repentance. She quilted elaborate petticoats for
us, knit stockings for Arthur, and was useful. Mr. and Mrs. Elisha
Peckham surprised us next. They arrived from "up country" and stayed
two weeks. I did not clearly understand why they came before they
went; but as they enjoyed their visit, it was of little consequence
whether I did or not.

Midwinter passed, and we still had company. There was much to do, but
it was done without system. Mother or Aunt Merce detailed from their
ordinary duties as keeper of the visitors, Fanny was for the first
time able to make herself of importance in the family tableaux,
and assumed cares no one had thought of giving her. She left the
town-school, telling mother that learning would be of no use to her.
The righ