Rose was right; and while she softly read psalms to Aunt Peace,
the other ladies were talking about her little self in the frankest
manner.

"Well, Alec, how do you like your ward?" began Aunt Jane, as they
all settled down, and Uncle Mac deposited himself in a corner to
finish his doze.

"I should like her better if I could have begun at the beginning, and
so got a fair start. Poor George led such a solitary life that the child
has suffered in many ways, and since he died she has been going
on worse than ever, judging from the state I find her in."

"My dear boy, we did what we thought best while waiting for you
to wind up your affairs and get home. I always told George he was
wrong to bring her up as he did; but he never took my advice, and
now here we are with this poor dear child upon our hands. I, for
one, freely confess that I don't know what to do with her any more
than if she was one of those strange, outlandish birds you used to
bring home from foreign parts." And Aunt Plenty gave a perplexed
shake of the head which caused great commotion among the stiff
loops of purple ribbon that bristled all over the cap like crocus
buds.

"If my advice had been taken, she would have remained at the
excellent school where I placed her. But our aunt thought best to
remove her because she complained, and she has been dawdling
about ever since she came. A most ruinous state of things for a
morbid, spoilt girl like Rose," said Mrs. Jane, severely.