talent, which is unhappily rare nowadays." Miss Merry shook hands
as a spaniel might give its paw, and looked reverentially at
Howard. His aunt put her hand through his arm, and said, "Let us
walk about a little. I live by rule, you must know--that is, by
Miss Merry's rule; and we shall have tea in a few minutes."

She pointed out one or two of the features of the house, and said,
in answer to Howard's loudly expressed admiration, "Yes, it is a
nice old house. Your uncle had a great taste for such things in
days when people did not care much about them. He bought this very
cheap, I believe, and was much attached to it; but he did not live
long to enjoy it, you know. He died nearly thirty years ago. I
meant to sell it, but somehow I did not, and now I hope to end my
days here. It is not nearly as big as it looks, and a good deal of
it consists of unused granaries and farm buildings. I sometimes
think it is selfish of me to go on occupying it--it's a house that
wants CHILDREN; but one isn't very consistent; and somehow the
house is used to me, and I to it; and, after all, it is only
waiting, which isn't the worst thing in the world!"

When Howard found an opportunity of scrutinising his aunt, which he
did as she poured out tea, he saw a very charming old lady, who was
not exactly handsome, but was fresh-coloured and silvery-haired,
and had a look of the most entire tranquillity and self-possession.
She looked as if she had met and faced trouble at some bygone time;
there were traces of sorrow about the brow and eyes, but it was a
face which seemed as if self had somehow passed out of it, and was
yet strong with a peculiar kind of fearless strength. She had a
lazy and contented sort of laugh, and yet gave an impression of
energy, and of a very real and vivid life. Her eyes had a great