as the younger generation thought of her, she thought something
of them, and the second week in December, when she chose her Christmas
presents for all her nieces and nephews, was the pleasantest week in the
year to her.

CHAPTER XI

Henrietta had been fourteen years abroad, when she came to pay her
biennial visit to Evelyn.

"Who do you think has come to live here, Henrietta?" said Evelyn, as
they sat talking the first evening. "Ellen."

"Ellen?"

"Yes, our dear old Ellen--Mrs. Plumtree. She's a widow now. Her eldest
son is working here, and she is living with him and his wife. I went to
see her last week, and she was so delighted to talk over old times, and
when she heard you were coming, she was so excited. You were always her
favourite."

A few days afterwards they went, to find Ellen a very hale old lady. In
spite of having brought up a large family of her own, she had the
clearest remembrance of apparently every incident of the childhood of
"you two young ladies" (so she still called them) as though she had
never had any other interest in life.

"Oh, and, Miss Etta," she said, "what a sight you did think of Miss
Evie! I never knew a child take so to anyone before. 'She's quite a
little mother,' I often used to say to Sarah. Do you remember Sarah? She
died only last year; she suffered dreadful with her heart. Do you
remember how you always would go to put your hand into the water before
I gave Miss Evie her bath, because you wanted to be sure it wasn't too
hot? Every evening you did it; and one day you were out late, and Miss
Evie was in bed before you came in, and you cried because you hadn't
been able to do it."

Neither sister found it easy to speak, but Ellen wanted very little
encouragement.

"Sometimes as a great treat, when you was a little older, Miss Evie, I
let you sleep in Miss Etty's bed, and she used to lay and cuddle you so
pretty. And the canary, Miss Etta--do you remember that? When Miss
Evie's dickie died, you went all the way to Willstead by yourself and
bought a new canary, so that she might never know her dickie died. Your
mamma was very angry with you, I remember; but there was nothing you
wouldn't do for Miss Evie."

The sisters walked back in silence; their hearts were too full for
speech. There was no time for private conversation till night, when
Evelyn came into Henrietta's room, and flung her arms round her.

"Darling, darling Etta," she said, "I could hardly bear i