y set out
on a fine morning, bent on spending more than he could afford, then--!
Diana's "then" is always so comforting.

I am so afraid you will spoil the children, she said; "they expect
presents, which is so dreadful. Hugh bet sixpence at lunch that you
would bring him something, and he said to poor Mr. Hardy, You didn't."

"But he will next time, Diana," I said.

"Of course he will; that is the dreadful part of it."

It is right that Diana should feel like that. A mother's point of view
and another's, an aunt's, for instance, are totally different things,
and I told Diana that, while fully appreciating her anxieties regarding
the characters of her children, considered that to destroy a child's
faith in an aunt was little short of criminal. But I promised that the
next time I came I would, perhaps, not bring them anything. "But I shall
give them fair warning."

Diana admitted the justice of this, and she said, with a sigh of relief,
"I can't bear the children to be disappointed; a disappointed Sara is--"

"Diana," I interrupted, "is it wise to begin Saraing at this time of
day?"

In reality the woolly rabbit was tugging at my heartstrings and
clamoring to be unpacked. After a hurried tea, which I was obliged to
have for the sake of Bindon's feelings, I went upstairs, resolved to
disinter at all costs, without delay, the rabbit. I felt great anxiety
lest in transit the machinery which made the rabbit squeak in a way that
surely no rabbit, mechanical or otherwise,--particularly the otherwise,
I hoped,--had ever squeaked before, might be impaired; happily it was
not.

Having carefully shut the door and silenced the attendant housemaid, I
took the precaution of burying the rabbit partially under the eider-down
quilt before testing the squeak, so that no noise should reach the
children. I am afraid I "mothered" the squeak of that rabbit if I
imagined it could reach anywhere so far; it was in reality such a very
small one. But such as it was, it was perfect, in spite of the deadening
effect of the quilt, and I pictured Sara's dimples dimpling. How she
would love it! The treasure was carefully wrapped up again, and I tried
hard to make it look like anything rather than a rabbit, in case Sara
should try, by feeling it, to discover its nature.

Jane, the housemaid, said that no one could tell, no matter how much
they tried; if they tried all day, they wouldn't, that she knew for
sure; which was very consoling.

I