l, as she entered the narrow strip
of woodland, she was met by Aunt Betsy, who exclaimed at seeing her, and
asked:

"What has become of your umberell? Your silk one, too. It's hopeful you
haven't lost it. What has happened you?" and coming closer to Katy, Aunt
Betsy looked searchingly in her face. It was not so dark that she could
not see the traces of recent tears, and instinctively suspecting their
nature, she continued: "Catherine, have you gin Morris the mitten?"

"Aunt Betsy, is it possible that you and Morris contrived this plan?"
Katy asked, half indignantly, as she began in part to understand her
aunt's great anxiety for her to visit Linwood that afternoon.

"Morris had nothing to do with it," Aunt Betsy replied. "It was my
doin's wholly, and this is the thanks I git. You quarrel with him and
git mad at me, who thought only of your good. Catherine, you know you
like Morris Grant, and if he asked you to have him why don't you?"

"I can't, Aunt Betsy. I can't, after all that has passed. It would be
unjust to Wilford."

"Unjust to Wilford--fiddlesticks!" was Aunt Betsy's expressive reply, as
she started on toward Linwood, saying she was going after the umberell
before it got lost, with nobody there to tend to things as they should
be tended to. "Have you any word to send?" she asked, hoping Katy had
relented.

But Katy had not; and with a toss of her head, which shook the raindrops
from her capeless shaker, Aunt Betsy went on her way, and was soon
confronting Morris, sitting just where Katy had left him, and looking
very pale and sad.

He was not glad to see Aunt Betsy. He would rather be alone until such
time as he could control himself and still his throbbing heart. But with
his usual affability, he bade Aunt Betsy sit down, shivering a little
when he saw her in the chair where Katy had sat, her thin, angular body
presenting a striking contrast to the graceful, girlish figure which had
sat there an hour since, and the huge India rubbers she held up to the
fire as unlike as possible to the boot of fairy dimensions he had
admired so much when it was drying on the hearth.

"I met Catherine," Aunt Betsy began, "and mistrusted at once that
something was to pay, for a girl don't leave her umberell in such a rain
and go cryin' home for nothin'."

Morris colored, resenting for an instant this interference by a third
party; but Aunt Betsy was so honest and simple-hearted that he could not
be angry long, and lis