a roar of hearty laughter. "Well," he cried,
"after my spending three months in trying to renew my youth, I do think
you might have called me a 'young father.' Never mind, Kitty, I feel
young, which is more than you do, I expect, dear, with all the cares you
have had on your shoulders lately. I suppose you have left Miss Pidsley
finally," with a smile, "and I have to pay her a term's fees for
nothing?"

Kitty looked a little ashamed of herself as she smiled ruefully.
"Yes. I don't seem able to stay at any school more than one term, do I?
I think you had better give up trying, father, and keep me home
altogether now."

"I think I had," said her father seriously. "I think I can't try again
to get on without you, dear--even," quizzically, "if there isn't always
boiling water when Jabez gets his head knocked."

CHAPTER XXI.

THE LAST.

Aunt Pike grew slowly and gradually stronger, and in time was able to be
dressed, and could sit up in her chair. But she knew, and the doctors
knew, that she would never again be the same strong, active woman that
she was before. The doctors had hopes that in time she would be able to
walk again, and take up some of her old ways and duties; but she herself
was not so hopeful, and with the prospect before her of a long spell of
invalidism, she insisted on leaving Dr. Trenire's home for one of her
own.

The doctor and all protested warmly, but Aunt Pike was determined.
"Kitty can look after the house now better than she could," she said,
"and I shall be glad of the rest and quiet. I shall not leave Gorlay.
I want to be near you all, so that if Kitty wants any advice I shall be
at hand to give it."

So, seeing that her heart was set upon it, and feeling that the quieter,
less busy home would be better for her, Dr. Trenire gave in, and they
all set to work to find a house to suit her. But here they found a task
which taxed all their time and patience. It had to be a small house,
sheltered yet sunny, of a moderate rent, but in a good position; it must
have, as well as a sitting-room, a room on the ground floor that Mrs.
Pike could turn into a bedroom, and it must have a garden with no
steps--a rarity in hilly Gorlay.

There were not very many houses in Gorlay, and very few to let;
certainly few with all, or even half, of the advantages Mrs. Pike
demanded; and at last in despair the doctor had to prevail on an old
friend and patient of his own to move from his house and