n a loud whisper,
"He's going to do something funny"; and if Jack remained silent, Hugh
was sure he was thinking of something to do. It is difficult to live up
to those expectations.

One morning at breakfast Hugh said suddenly, "Aunt Woggles, have you got
a mole?"

I said I believed I had.

"It's frightfully lucky. I have," he said, pulling up his sleeve and
disclosing a mole on his very white little arm. "It is lucky."

"I've got one too," said Betty, diving under the table.

"All right, darling," I said, "you needn't show us."

"I couldn't, Aunt Woggles, at least not now. If you come to see me in my
bath, you can; but it's truthfully there."

I said I was sure it was.

"I 'spect she's sitting on it," said Hugh in aloud whisper; "that's
why."

"We asked Mr. Hardy once if he had a mole, and he got redder and
redder;" we asked him at lunch, said Betty.

"He got redder and redder," said Hugh, by way of corroboration. "Mother
said moles weren't good things to ask people about, so we asked him if
he had any little children, and he hadn't; then we didn't know what to
ask."

"We only asked about moles because we wanted him to be lucky," said
kindhearted Betty.

"Last time I went to the Zoo," said Hugh, "I gave all my bread to one
animal. He was a lucky animal, wasn't he?"

"It was the hippopotamus, I think; he was lucky."

"Perhaps he has a mole, Hugh," I said.

We'll look, said Hugh. "I 'spect he has."

The proverbial difficulty of finding a needle in a haystack seemed
child's play compared to that of finding a mole on a hippopotamus.

Chapter XII

Another aunt, Anna by name, suggested that as I was at Fullfield, I
might take the opportunity of paying her a visit at Manwell, why because
I was at Fullfield I don't know, as they are miles apart, counties apart
I should say. However, I went because it is difficult to refuse Aunt
Anna anything; she accepts no excuses. It is as well for any one who
wishes to see Aunt Anna at her best to see her in her own home. She,
according to Aunt Cecilia, does best in her own soil. Moreover, she is
nothing without her family, it so thoroughly justifies her existence.

Aunt Anna is one of those jewels who owe a certain amount to their
setting.

Her husband calls her a jewel, and as such she is known by the family
in general which recalls to my mind an interesting biennial custom which
was said to hold good in the Manwell family. Every time a lesser jewel
ma