to the fire, child, as fast as you can. Get in to the fire, get in to the
fire. I hope you forgive me for not going to meet you." And there was my
mother's only sister, my tall graceful aunt, standing beside her, giving
me a kiss and cordial hand-clasp, and saying, "Welcome, Sybylla. We will
be glad to have a young person to brighten up the old home once more. I
am sorry I was too unwell to meet you. You must be frozen; come to the
fire."


My aunt always spoke very little and very quietly, but there was
something in her high-bred style which went right home.

I could scarcely believe that they were addressing me. Surely they were
making a mistake. This reception was meant for some grand relative
honouring them with a visit, and not for the ugly, useless, had little
pauper come to live upon their bounty.

Their welcome did more than all the sermons I had ever heard put together
towards thawing a little of the pitiless cynicism which encrusted my
heart.

"Take the child inside, Helen, as fast as you can," said grannie, "while I
see that the boy attends to the horses. The plaguey fellow can't be
trusted any further than the length of his nose. I told him to tie up
these dogs, and here they are yelp-yelping fit to deafen a person."

I left my wet umbrella on the veranda, and aunt Helen led me into the
dining-room, where a spruce maid was making a pleasant clatter in laying
the table. Caddagat was a very old style of house, and all the front
rooms opened onto the veranda without any such preliminary as a hall,