than myself. She was an amusing young
thing, and the charming way in which even in middle age--she was as I
have already said 623 years old at the time of which I write--she held
on to the manners of youth was delightful to contemplate. She always
kept herself looking very fit, and was the first woman in our section
of the world to wear her hair pompadour in front, running to the
extreme psychic knot behind--she called it psychic, though I have
since learned that the proper adjective is Psyche, indicating rather a
levity of mind than anything else. It should be said of her in all
justice that she was a leader in her set, and as President of the
Woman's Club of Enochsville was a person of more than ordinary
influence, and it was through her that the movement to grant the
franchise to all single women over three hundred and forty, resulted
in the extension of the suffrage to that extent.

[Illustration: "It's a boy, sir!"]

Incidentally I cannot forget the wise words of my father in this
connection. He had always been an anti-suffragist, but when Aunt
Jerusha's plan was laid before him he swung instantly around and
became one of its heartiest advocates.

"It is a wise measure," said he. "Safe, sane and practical, for no
single woman will confess to the age of qualification, so that in
passing this act we grant the prayers of our petitioners without
subjecting ourselves to the dangers of women's suffrage. Remember my
son, that it always pays to be generous with that which costs you
nothing, and that woman's suffrage is as harmless as the cooing dove
if you only take the precaution to raise the age limit high enough to
freeze out the old maids."

I should add too that Aunt Jerusha had a way with her that was not
without its fascination. To look at her you would never have supposed
that she was more than four hundred years old, and the variety of eyes
that she could make when there were men about, was wonderful to see. I
noticed it the very day I was born, and when I first caught sight of
that piquante little glance that now and then she cast in my direction
out of the tail of her eye, I began rummaging about in the back of my
subconscious mind for the precise words with which to characterize
her.

"You giddy old flirt!" was the apostrophe I had in mind at the moment,
but, of course, having had no practice in speech I was compelled to
forego the pleasure of giving audible expression to the thought.

Unfortunately for