"Six years this autumn--not quite six years yet," replied Bertha,
correcting her. "Yes, I too remember the day," she said thoughtfully.
"It seemed a bad day for me, and yet it was a good one. I have feathered
my nest. You stepped out of it and I stepped in. Do you understand?"

"I don't."

"You have grown a good deal, Florence Aylmer," said Bertha, looking her
all over. "You are what would be called a fine young woman. If you had
had the advantages of a refined life, of very good dress, you might, now
that you are grown up, command almost any future. As it is"--she
shrugged her shoulders.

"What is the matter with my dress?" said Florence; "you always were
queer and rude, Bertha, and time has not improved you."

"You cannot say that I am badly dressed," said Bertha Keys, and she
glanced at her exquisitely-cut pink zephyr skirt, her pretty blouse, and
her neat shoes.

Florence also eyed her all over.

"You are well got up," she said; "but what of that? Your face never
changes."

"Thank you for the compliment," replied Bertha; "I cannot say that you
are well got up, and your face, if it has changed, is not more beautiful
than it promised to be."

"Pray leave my face alone; it belongs to me, not to you," retorted
Florence, with some spirit.

"Do you want to know what I am doing now: how I am managing to live?"
said Bertha.

"You can tell me if you please; if you prefer not to say anything, it
does not matter in the least."

"But it does matter; it matters a good deal," replied Bertha. "You did
something very silly long ago. You thought to succeed, but you failed.
It was not my fault. I did what I could for you. If I was clever then, I
am still more clever now. I have a gift of writing, but I need not wear
my brain out thinking of curious essays and well-devised stories and
clever plots. I am working at my own story, and I think it will come off
well."

"But what do you mean? Where are you?"

"We are staying at the 'Crown and Garter' for the present."

"We?" said Florence, in a questioning tone.

"Yes; how stupid you are! Have not you guessed! Mrs. Aylmer, Mr. Trevor,
and I."

"You don't mean it?" said Florence, springing to her feet. "Aunt Susan!
Are you staying with her?"

"Yes, and I fancy I am indispensable to her. I have lived with her for
nearly six years. I manage her affairs; I write her letters; I attend to
her business; she consults me about everything. She goes where I like;
she does wh