came aware of the presence of a very
small, very wizened old woman sitting alone at the opposite side of the
room, her mittened hands clawing each other restlessly in her lap, her
sunken eyes glancing to right and left with a glance distinctly hostile.
The passing of guests frequently hid her from view, but when a gap came
again, there she sat, still alone, still twisting her mittened hands,
still coldly staring around. Claire thought she looked a very
disagreeable old lady, but she was sorry for her all the same. Horrid
to be old and cross, and to be alone in a crowd! She put yet another
question to the boy by her side.

"That," said Master Willoughby seriously, "is Great-aunt Jane. Great-
aunt Jane is the skeleton in our cupboard. The mater says so, and she
ought to know. Every time the mater has a show, the moment the door is
opened, in comes Great-aunt Jane, and sits it out until every one has
gone. If any one dares speak to her she snaps his head off, and if they
let her alone, she's furious, and gives it to the mater after they're
gone. Most of the crowd know her by now, and pretend they don't see,
... and she gets waxier and waxier. Would you like to be introduced?"

"Yes, please!" said Claire unexpectedly. She was tired of sitting in
one corner, and wanted to move her position, but she was also quite
genuinely anxious to try her hand at cheering poor cross Great-aunt
Jane. The old lady _pensionnaires_ in the "Villa Beau Sejour" had made
a point of petting and flattering the pretty English girl, and Claire
was complacently assured that this old lady would follow their example.
But she was mistaken.

"Aunt Jane, Miss Gifford asks to be introduced to you. Miss Gifford--
Lady Jane Willoughby."

Reginald beat a hurried retreat, and Claire seated herself at the end of
the sofa and smilingly awaited her companion's lead. It did not come.
After one automatic nod of the head, Lady Jane resumed her former
position, taking no more notice of the new-comer than if she had
remained at the far end of the room. Claire felt her cheeks begin to
burn. Her complacence had suffered a shock, but pride came to her
rescue, and she made a determined effort at conversation.

"That nice boy has been telling me that he has had appendicitis."

Lady Jane favoured her with a frosty glance.

"Yes, he has. Perhaps you will excuse me from talking about it. I
object to the discussion of diseases at social gatherings."

C