doll of mine that you used to know, only think! she was sick
and died last summer, and went into the rag-bag. And the other
split down the back, so there was an end of her."

Polar ice would have been thawed by this reopening of
communication. Philip soon had the little maid on his
shoulder,--the natural throne of all children,--and they went
in together to greet Aunt Jane.

Aunt Jane was the head of the house,--a lady who had spent more
than fifty years in educating her brains and battling with her
ailments. She had received from her parents a considerable
inheritance in the way of whims, and had nursed it up into a
handsome fortune. Being one of the most impulsive of human
beings, she was naturally one of the most entertaining; and
behind all her eccentricities there was a fund of the soundest
sense and the tenderest affection. She had seen much and varied
society, had been greatly admired in her youth, but had chosen
to remain unmarried. Obliged by her physical condition to make
herself the first object, she was saved from utter selfishness
by sympathies as democratic as her personal habits were
exclusive. Unexpected and commonly fantastic in her doings,
often dismayed by small difficulties, but never by large ones,
she sagaciously administered the affairs of all those around
her,--planned their dinners and their marriages, fought out
their bargains and their feuds.

She hated everything irresolute or vague; people might play at
cat's-cradle or study Spinoza, just as they pleased; but,
whatever they did, they must give their minds to it. She kept