day for the mail, and for provisions. And part of the time I went to
school. The teacher was a nice young girl, but we boys led her a dance!
How we _did_ plague her!" and Bill laughed at the recollection.

"Any children in your aunt's family?"

"One; a little baby girl, named Azalea."

"What a pretty name! Where is she now?"

"I don't know. Right there, probably. Let me see. I was ten when I went
there. But she wasn't born then. When I left, that child was about a year
old, I guess. She must be about seventeen or so, now."

"And she's your only living relative?"

"The only one I know anything about. Mother's people were English,--none
of them over here. No near relatives, anyhow, for she was an only child.
Dad was, too, for that matter. Little Zaly,--that's what they called
her, is about the last leaf on the tree."

"Let's ask her to visit us, can't we? I do want to know your people; and
if she's all the people there are, I want to know her."

"Why, child, I don't know anything about her,--I don't even know if she's
still in the land of the living."

"Can't you write and find out?"

"Why, I suppose so. But _why_ do you want her? She's probably an awkward,