Suddenly Aunt Ruth starts and peers through the window. There is a
bright little hood and blue cloak approaching; she sees that, but not
the carefully wrapped parcel Bessie is carrying, for she hurries to
brighten the fire and brush the hearth.

"Good morning, Aunt Ruth. It has been ever so long since I have been
here, hasn't it?"

"Yes, a long time for a lonesome old body like me; but this is no place
for the young and happy, I know."

"Oh, yes it is, dear Aunt Ruthie. You must not say so. I like to come
real well. But Uncle Jake has been so sick; he sent for pa and ma, and I
went with them. It is such a long way off, I thought we never would get
there. And Oh, Aunt Ruth, I have not told you yet"--and the chubby face
sobered.

"What is it, child?" picking up bits of litterings from the floor.
Somehow she always did so when Bessie was around, the hands
involuntarily moved in little touches of order and neatness. The room
was good enough for her: for the child it seemed dismal and must be
brightened a little. But Aunt Ruth was unconscious that she was being
called to a better life, or that a love for light and beauty was
awakening in her weary heart.

"Well, I will tell you; we are going to move away. I declare, I think
it's too bad to leave all the girls just as I began to like them, and
you, too, Aunt Ruth. I don't want to go one bit;" tears rolling down her
face.