"Mean thing--she doesn't want me to have any," was her first thought
which she dismissed a moment later as she remembered certain very
distinct occasions when her aunt had been anything but mean, times when
she had deliberately stayed away from a scanty meal that the others
should have more--little sacrifices that Marcella was only just
beginning to understand.

"I don't believe she's mean--anyway, I _know_ she isn't. I believe she
doesn't have half enough to eat and these sweets make up for it! Or
else--she likes sweets frightfully and doesn't want me to know she's
so--so kiddish."

Quick tears had sprung into Marcella's eyes, tears of pity and of
impotence as she wondered what on earth she could do for Aunt Janet.
After a while, when she was quite sure the acid drop was swallowed, and
no other had taken its place, she knelt down on the hearth and, after a
minute, shyly drew herself over to her aunt's side.

"Aunt Janet," she said, taking one of the thin blue-veined hands in
hers, "Auntie--"

"What is it, Marcella?"

"I--I don't know. Oh, Aunt Janet, I do wish there was something I could
do for you."

"Marcella!" cried her aunt, almost shocked.

"Oh dear, you make me cry, Aunt Janet, to see you sitting here so lonely
and so still. You seem like father--there's a wall all round you that I