``Here it is, on the floor,'' reported Billy.
``Were you going to read it to me?'' she asked,
as she picked it up.

``Yes--if you don't mind.''

``I'd love to hear it.''

``Then I'll read it. It--it rather annoys me
in some ways. I thought the whole family understood
that I wasn't living by myself any longer
--that I was living with you. I'm sure I thought
I wrote them that, long ago. But this sounds
almost as if they didn't understand it--at least,
as if this girl didn't.''

``How old is she?''

``I don't know; but she must be some old, to
be coming here to Boston to study music, alone
--singing, I think she said.''

``You don't remember her, then?''

Aunt Hannah frowned and paused, the letter
half withdrawn from its envelope.

``No--but that isn't strange. They live West.
I haven't seen any of them for years. I know there
are several children--and I suppose I've been