out of the house. Despite his age, and occasional
attacks of rheumatism, he was "purty spry yit," according to his own
statement. And since the Kenway girls had come to the old house, Uncle
Rufus seemed to have taken a new lease on life.

Aunt Sarah Maltby was already in her place at the table when Ruth and
the two smaller girls entered the dining room. She was a withered wisp
of a woman, with bright brown eyes under rather heavy brows. There were
three deep wrinkles between her eyes; otherwise Aunt Sarah did not show
in her countenance many of the ravages of time.

Her hair was only a little frosted; she wore it crimped on the sides,
doing it up carefully in little "pigtails" every night before she
retired. She was scrupulous in the care of her hands, being one of those
old ladies who almost never are seen bare-handed--wearing mits or gloves
on all occasions.

Her plainly made dresses were starched and prim in every particular. She
was a spinster who never told her age, and defied the public to guess
it! Living a sort of detached life in the Kenway family, nothing went on
in domestic affairs of which she was not aware; yet she was seldom
helpful in any emergency. Usually, if she interfered at all, it was at a
time when Ruth could have well excused her assistance.

Aunt Sarah had chosen the best bedroom in the house when first they had
come to Milton to live; and, as well, she had the best there was to be
had of everything else. She had, all her life, lived selfishly, been
waited upon, and considered her own comfort first. It was too late now
for Aunt Sarah to change in many particulars.

Mrs. MacCall bustled in from the kitchen, her face rather red and a
burned stripe on her forearm which she had floured over to take out the
smart. "Always get burned when I am driv' like I be to-day," declared
the housekeeper, whom Ruth insisted should always eat at their table.
Mrs. MacCall was much more than an ordinary houseworker; she was the
friend and confidant of the Kenway sisters, and was nearer to all their
hearts than was stiff and almost wordless Aunt Sarah.

"Do _you_ know who the lady in the gray cloak is?" asked Tess, of Mrs.
MacCall, having put the question fruitlessly to both Uncle Rufus and
Aunt Sarah.

"What's that--a conundrum?" asked the housekeeper. "Don't bother me,
child, with questions to-day. I've got too much on my mind."

"I guess," sighed Tess to Dot, "we never _shall_ find out who she is."

"Don'