therefore it was necessary to pass through the dining-room to my bedroom,
which was a skillion at the back. While auntie paused for a moment to
give some orders to the maid, I noticed the heavy silver serviette rings
I remembered so well, and the old-fashioned dinner-plates, and the big
fire roaring in the broad white fireplace; but more than all, the
beautiful pictures on the walls and a table in a corner strewn with
papers, magazines, and several very new-looking books. On the back of one
of these I saw "Corelli", and on another--great joy!--was _Trilby_. From
the adjoining apartment, which was the drawing-room, came the sweet full
tones of a beautiful piano. Here were three things for which I had been
starving. An impulse to revel in them immediately seized me. I felt like
clearing the table at a bound, seizing and beginning to read both books,
and rushing in to the piano and beginning to play upon it there and then,
and examine the pictures--all three things at once. Fortunately for the
reputation of my sanity, however, aunt Helen had by this time conducted
me to a pretty little bedroom, and saying it was to be mine, helped me to
doff my cape and hat.

While warming my fingers at the fire my eyes were arrested by a beautiful
portrait hanging above the mantelpiece. It represented a lovely girl in
the prime of youth and beauty, and attired in floating white dinner
draperies.

"Oh, aunt Helen! isn't she lovely? It's you, isn't it?"

"No. Do you not recognize it as your mother? It was taken just before her
marriage. I must leave you now, but come out as soon as you arrange
yourself--your grandmother will be anxious to see you."

When aunt Helen left me I plastered my hair down in an instant without