nd as often as otherwise when Master John was being put through his daily
ablutions it was the little Katie of long ago that she bathed and robed
fresh and clean for the morning nap. At other times Elizabeth was her
Katie grown older. It was the flowering time of Susan Hornby's life. The
fact that Elizabeth had never crossed her threshold since her marriage to
John Hunter had faded out of Aunt Susan's mind. Elizabeth's every word and
look spoke the affection she felt for her. Other people might sneer and
doubt, but Susan Hornby accepted what her instincts told her was genuine.

* * * * *

Elizabeth got about the house slowly. The days in bed had been made
tolerable by the presence of those she loved, but she was far from strong,
and she looked forward with reluctance to the time when Aunt Susan would
not be with her. John complained of Hepsie's work only when with his wife
alone, for Aunt Susan had been so constant in her praises that he would
not start a discussion which he had found he brought out by such
criticism.

Susan Hornby looked on, and was as much puzzled as ever about the
relations of the young couple. Elizabeth was evidently anxious about
John's opinions, but she never by so much as a word indicated that they
differed from hers. She spoke of him with all the glow of her early love;
she pointed out his helpfulness as if he were the only man in the world
who looked after the kitchen affairs with such exactitude; she would have
the baby named for no one else, and all her life and thought centred
around him in so evident a manner that Aunt Susan could not but feel that
she was the happiest of wives. She talked of her ideals of harmony, of her
thankfulness for the example of the older woman's life with her husband,
of her desire to pattern after that example, of everything that was good
and hopeful in her life, with so much enthusiasm as to completely convince
her friend that she had found a fitting abiding place. And, indeed,
Elizabeth believed all that she said. Each mistake of their married life
together had been put away as a mistake. Each day she began in firm faith
in the possibility of bringing about necessary changes. If she failed, she
was certain in her own mind that the failure had been due to some weakness
of her own. Never did man have a more patient, trusting wife than John
Hunter. There had been much company about the house of late, and there had
been no