wn family in their suburb."

No, Bridgie did not know them, but her expression seemed to denote that
she was quite ready to listen to their family history, in addition to
those which she had already heard. But this was more than Sylvia could
bear, and she hastened to interrupt the flow of her aunt's
reminiscences.

"You have not heard from Aunt Emma lately--at least, you have not told
me of her letters. I suppose you have not seen her while I have been
ill?"

Miss Munns pursed up her lips in a manner which seemed to imply that she
was in possession of some weighty secret, but from motives of prudence
was resolved to conceal it from the world.

"I have heard from her, my dear. I have not seen her. As I said in my
reply, everything must give way to illness, though I am very sorry
indeed to think of her alone in the house. Emmeline can't leave the
baby, so it is only natural that her mother should want some
companionship over Christmas. I would have had her here instead, but
the house is so upset that I am not prepared for visitors. It is very
pleasant meeting from time to time, being contemporaries as we are, and
having gone through so many troubles together. There is nothing I enjoy
more than talking them over with your Aunt Emma, and I am grieved to
disappoint her. Of course I made up my mind from the first to say
nothing about it to you."

Now it was Bridgie's turn to look blank, and Sylvia's to question
anxiously.

"Do you mean that she invited you for Christmas, and that you refused
because of me? Oh, Aunt Margaret, you must not do that! You need a
change, and it would be a relief to have all arrangements taken off your
hands. Whitey and I could manage quite well by ourselves. Do please
change your mind and write to say that you will go!"

"My love, I assure you that I considered the matter very carefully
before I decided, and it is impossible for me to leave home. I have
promised nurse that she shall spend two days with her sister, coming
round each morning to attend to your foot, and I should not like to
disappoint her. It is only natural that she should wish to be with her
own friends. I sympathise with her, but I don't complain. It is not
your fault that your illness has upset my plans, and it is my duty to be
resigned and cheerful."

Aunt Margaret testified to her sense of duty by heaving a sigh of
funereal proportions, the while Sylvia's brow became fretted with lines,
and she turned