room, and Florence slowly rose and
dressed.

"I wonder what mother would think of me," she said to herself, "if she
knew how I really secured my present position as one of the lucky
three; I wonder what mother would think about it. Would she be
terribly shocked? I doubt if the little Mummy has the highest
principles in the world; in fact, I don't doubt, for I am quite certain
that the Mummy's principles are a little lax, but there, she is the
Mummy, and I love her. What a queer thing love is, for Mummy is not
the highest-souled woman, nor the most beautiful in the world. Still,
she is the Mummy, and I love her."

So Florence finished dressing and ran downstairs, and enjoyed a hearty
breakfast of brown bread and butter, honey, and delicious coffee.

"I can't do much for you in the meat line, my dear," said her parent.
"I don't indulge in meat more than once a week myself, but we'll take
it out in fish. Fish is cheap and plentiful in Dawlish, and we can get
dear little crabs for fourpence apiece."

"Oh, lovely," said Florence; "I adore crabs."

"We will go down to the fishwife after breakfast, and get her to boil
some for us in time for supper," said the mother; "and now, Florence,
if you are quite disposed to listen, I may as well get over this bad
business."

"You allude to Aunt Susan, of course?" said Florence.

"Yes, my dear child, to her last letter. I could not read it to you,
for really the tone is that aggravating it would make milk turn, and I
know the contents by heart."

"What are they, mother? You may as well tell me; I am pretty well
accustomed to bad news. Is she going to make your screw still smaller?"

"No, she says nothing about that. Florence, child, I wish it had been
the will of Providence to have spared my brother, for if your Uncle Tom
had lived I would not be in the sordid state I am now. If one of them
had to go, why wasn't it your Aunt Susan?"

"She is not my real aunt, you know," said Florence.

"That's just it, dear, but she owns the money. Now, if she had left it
to Tom he would have had me to live with him. I doubt, after his
experience with your Aunt Susan, if he would ever have taken a second
wife, and you and I would have had plenty."

"Dear me, mother," said Florence, frowning slightly, "what is the good
of going over that now? Uncle Tom has been in his grave for the last
six years, hasn't he? and Aunt Susan rules the roost. It's Aunt Susan
we have got to think