ulder at the telegram. "So those were your brother's
two children! He must 'uv been pretty well off for them to have a car
like that. I must say I think it's a harm to children to be brought up
wealthy."

"Their mother was rich," said Ellen sourly. It had always been a thorn
in her flesh. "She was a snob, too, and her children'll likely be the
limit by this time. But Julia is such a fool!"

They sat in Julia Cloud's parlor, one at each window, discussing the
probabilities until half-past eleven. Then Ellen said she must go. She
positively couldn't wait another minute; but she would return, in the
afternoon, and Mrs. Perkins must tell her sister that she was coming
and wanted her to remain at home. That it was very important.

"I'll settle her!" she said with her thin lips set in a hard line.
Then she stooped to crank her Ford.

Mrs. Perkins watched her away, then hurried to her own neglected work;
and ten minutes later the big blue car sailed noiselessly up to the
place. It was not until the Perkins children discovered it and told
their mother that she knew it had arrived. This was very annoying. She
had wanted to catch them quite casually on their arrival, and now she
would have to make a special errand over, and as likely as not have
them not come to the door again. Besides, she was getting dinner, and
things were likely to burn. Nevertheless, she dared not wait with that
big blue car standing so capably at the door, ready to spirit them
away again at any moment. She wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed a
teacup for an excuse, and ran over to borrow that soda once more.

Peals of laughter were echoing through the old house when she knocked
at the door, and a regular rush and scramble was going on, so unseemly
just after a funeral! The door was on the latch, too, as if they did
not care who heard; and to save her life she couldn't help pushing it
a little with her foot, just enough to see in. And there was Julia
Cloud, her white hair awry, and her face rosy with mirth, an ear of
corn in one hand and a knife in the other, being carried--yes,
actually _carried_--across the dining-room in the arms of a tall young
man and deposited firmly on the big old couch.

"There, Cloudy Jewel! You'll lie right there and rest while Leslie and
I get lunch. You're all tired out; I can see it in your eyes; and we
can't afford to let you stay so. No, we don't need any succotash for
lunch or dinner, either. I know it's good; but we