"About six miles, young sir," the driver said gravely.

The young Scudamores had great difficulty to restrain their laughter
at Tom's new title; in fact, Peter nearly choked himself in his
desperate efforts to do so, and no further questions were asked for
some time.

The ride was a pleasant one, and Rhoda, who had never been out of
Lincolnshire before, was delighted with the beautiful country through
which they were passing. The journey, long as it was--for the road
was a very bad one, and the horse had no idea of going beyond a slow
trot--passed quickly to them all; but they were glad when the driver
pointed to a quaint old-fashioned house standing back from the road,
and said that they were home.

"There are the pigeons, Rhoda, and there is Minnie asleep on that open
window-sill."

Very many times had the young Scudamores talked about their aunt, and
had pictured to themselves what she would be like; and their ideas of
her so nearly approached the truth, that she almost seemed to be an
old acquaintance as she came to the door as the carriage stopped. She
was a tall, upright, elderly lady, with a kind, but very decided face,
and a certain prim look about her manner and dress.

"Well, niece Rhoda and nephews, I am glad to see that you have arrived
safely," she said in a clear, distinct voice. "Welcome to the Yews. I
hope that we shall get on very well together. Joseph, I hope that you
have not driven Daisy too fast, and that you did not allow my nephews
to use the whip. You know I gave you very distinct instructions not to