to do, and couldn't, because the nurse's father was ill, and the
nursery-maid anemic, the little misunderstanding will have
disappeared by the time the aunt returns from Kew, and Zerlina
will say, after carefully counting the children, -- it is this
mathematical tendency in mothers that hurts an aunt, -- "I do
trust you implicitly with the children, dear. You know that; it
isn't every one I could trust; you are so capable! I wish I were,
but one can't be everything. Of course you don't understand a
mother's feelings."

I sometimes wonder why Zerlina always says this to me. I have
never pretended to be anything but an aunt.

But to return to my profession. As the children grow older the
duties of the aunt become more arduous. For the benefit of
schoolboy nephews with exeats, she must have an intimate
acquaintance with the Hippodrome, any exhibition going, every
place of instruction, of a kind, or amusement. She must be
thoroughly up in matinees,, and know what plays are frightfully
exciting, and she must have a nice taste in sweets. She need not
necessarily eat them; it is perhaps better if she does not. But
she must know where the very best are to be procured. She must
never get tired. She must love driving in hansoms and going on
the top of 'buses. She must know where the white ones go, and
where the red ones don't, although a mistake on her part is
readily forgiven, if it prolongs the drive without curtailing a
performance of any kind. This requires great experience. She
must set aside, moreover, a goodly sum every year for professional
expenses.